As they entered the vestibule, a servant came up with the word that Miss Castleton was wanted at the telephone, "long distance from New York."
The girl stopped in her tracks. Booth looked at her in mild surprise, a condition which gave way an instant later to perplexity. The look of annoyance in her eyes could not be disguised or mistaken.
"Ask him to call me up later, Watson," she said quietly.
"This is the third time he has called, Miss Castleton," said the man. "You were dressing, if you please, ma'am, the first time—"
"I will come," she interrupted sharply, with a curious glance at Sara, who for some reason avoided meeting Booth's gaze.
"Tell him we shall expect him on Friday," said Mrs. Wrandall.
"By George!" thought Booth, as she left them. "I wonder if it can be Leslie. If it IS—well, he wouldn't be flattered if he could have seen the look in her eyes."
Later on, he had no trouble in gathering that it WAS Leslie Wrandall who called, but he was very much in the dark as to the meaning of that expressive look. He only knew that she was in the telephone room for ten minutes or longer, and that all trace of emotion was gone from her face when she rejoined them with a brief apology for keeping them waiting.
He left at ten-thirty, saying good-night to them on the terrace. Sara walked to the steps with him.
"Don't you think her voice is lovely?" she asked. Hetty had sung for them.