“So you will not tell me what you know!” said Mrs. Enderby, with a chilly smile.
It was on the tip of Lexy’s tongue to say, with considerable warmth, that she had told all she knew; but the memory of the telephone call checked her.
“If I tell her about that,” she thought, “she’ll just say, ‘Ah, I thought so!’ And she’ll be surer than ever that Caroline has eloped with a fortune hunter, and she won’t make any effort to find her. No—I’m not going to tell her until she gets really frightened.” Aloud she said: “I’ll do anything in the world that I can do, Mrs. Enderby, to help you find Caroline.”
“It is not necessary,” said Mrs. Enderby. “I shall have her letter.”
There was another tap at the door. Mrs. Enderby closed the door leading into the bathroom, and then called:
“Come in!”
The parlor maid entered.
“You may take away the tray,” her mistress said graciously. “Miss Enderby has finished.”
Again a feeling that was almost horror came over Lexy. There was the bed Caroline had slept in, there was the breakfast Caroline had eaten, there was Caroline’s bath running—and Caroline wasn’t there! Lexy wanted to get out of that room and away from Mrs. Enderby.
“Do you mind if I go down and get my own breakfast now?” she asked, when the parlor maid had gone out with the tray.