Gregory away? That letter! Something had happened to that poor, kindly old man. “Why did you not seek some restaurant? Or have you no money?”
“I have plenty. I was afraid that I might not be able conveniently to return. I am a stranger. My actions might be viewed with suspicion.”
“Indeed! Describe Mr. Gregory.”
Not of the clinging kind, evidently, he thought. A raving beauty—Diana domesticated!
“It is four years since I saw him. He was then gray, dapper, and erect. A mole on his chin, which he rubs when he talks. He is a valet in one of the fashionable hotels. He is—or was—the only true friend I have in New York.”
“Was? What do you mean?”
“I'm afraid something has happened to him. I found his bedroom things tossed about.”
“What could possibly happen to a harmless old man like Mr. Gregory?”
“Pardon me, but your egg is burning!”
Kitty wheeled and lifted off the pan, choking in the smother of smoke. She came right-about face swiftly enough. The man had not moved; and that decided her.