“No, sir—not at present. If you care to wait—”
He asked for Mrs. Carew, and gave her his name, and she left him in the little sitting room, where he began to walk up and down, very much perplexed. A pretty room, furnished in a very good taste, but shabby. Through the half-open folding doors he could see a dining room of very much the same sort, with the table still laid, as if the diners had just risen. And—the table was laid for three!
“For three!” he said to himself. “And yet there’s no guest here. Mrs. Carew and Hunter—and who else?”
There was a light, quick step on the stairs. Turning, he saw the inexplicable girl descending. This was an excellent op[Pg 115]portunity to study her, which Alan did not miss. A remarkable girl! Mere prettiness was not a thing that particularly appealed to this young man. He had met dozens of pretty girls without losing his heart. What interested him now was not the fine regularity of her features, but her air of candid and unassuming dignity, and the thoughtful intelligence of her face.
She entered the room to tell him that Mrs. Carew would be down directly.
“Thank you!” said he, and sought desperately for something to say that would keep her there.
Before he could do so, she had gone—only into the dining room, however, where he could still watch her as she cleared off the table. The more he watched, the more impressed and the more puzzled he became. When he caught sight of her hands—strong and beautiful hands, exquisitely tended—he very nearly exclaimed aloud. Three places at the table, and a girl with hands like that playing the servant!
“It’s a good thing I came,” he reflected grimly. “There’s something here that needs explaining.”
Well, he didn’t get much out of Mrs. Carew when she came down. He brought the talk around to the topic of servants. She said that she never had any trouble with them.
“You’re fortunate,” he observed.