“Excuse me!” he said.
Lexy only looked at him, but he did not wither and perish under her scorn.
“I’ve got to speak to you,” he said.
“It’s—look here! I’ve been waiting outside the house all morning. Look here, please! You’re Lexy, aren’t you?”
This was a little too much!
“If you don’t stop bothering me this instant—” she began hotly, but he paid no heed.
“Where’s Miss Enderby?” he cried.
Lexy grew very pale. Those were the words she had heard over the telephone last night, and this was the same voice.
For a moment she was silent, staring at him, while he looked back at her, his blue eyes searching her face with a look of desperate entreaty. All her doubts vanished. She had not been wrong. She had been right—she was sure of it. She knew that something had happened—something inexplicable and dreadful.
“Please tell me!” he said. “You don’t know—you can’t know—she told me you were her friend.”