“No, he is not,” she answered, growing more confident now and almost wishing she had not presumed to answer a stranger’s ’phone.
“Why, I just ’phoned to the office and they told me he had returned,” said a voice that had an imperious note in it. “Are you sure he isn’t there?”
“Quite sure,” she replied.
“Who is this, please?”
“I beg your pardon,” said Celia trying to make time and knowing not how to reply. She was not any longer Miss Hathaway. Who was she? Mrs. Hayne? She shrank from the name. It was filled with horror for her. “Who is this, I said,” snapped the other voice now. “Is this the chambermaid? Because if it is I’d like you to look around and inquire and be quite sure that Mr. Gordon isn’t there. I wish to speak with him about something very important.”
Celia smiled.
“No, this is not the chambermaid,” she said sweetly, “and I am quite sure Mr. Gordon is not here.”
“How long before he will be there?”
“I don’t know really, for I have but just come myself.”
“Who is this to whom I am talking?”