Lexy was an honest soul, however. The fragrance of coffee and rolls reached her, and she admitted in her heart that she, too, could eat, if she had a chance.
Mrs. Enderby was not going to give her a chance just yet. She finished her meal and rose.
“Now!” she said. “Just what is gone from here? We shall look.”
So they looked, in the wardrobe, in the drawers, even in the orderly desk. Very little was gone.
“And now,” said Mrs. Enderby, “you lent her—how much money, Miss Moran?”
“I never lent her a penny in my life,” replied Lexy.
Mrs. Enderby’s tone aroused a spirit of obstinate defiance in her. Those flashing black eyes were fixed upon her with an expression which did not please Lexy, and Lexy looked back with an expression which did not please Mrs. Enderby.
“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.”