"You'll understand?" he said. "It's—well, the worst news. The fact is——"
"Is my grandfather dead?" interrupted the girl. "If that's it, please say so—I shan't faint, or anything of that sort. But—I want to know!"
"I'm sorry to say he is dead," replied Matherfield. "He died suddenly in the train at Charing Cross. A seizure, no doubt. Was he well when you saw him last?"
The girl turned to the hotel proprietor, who was standing by, evidently amazed.
"Never saw a gentleman look better or seem better in my life than he did when he went out of that door at half-past six o'clock!" he exclaimed. "Best of health and spirits!"
"My grandfather was quite well," said the girl quietly. "I never remember him being anything else but well—he was a very strong, vigorous man. Will you please tell me all about it?"
Matherfield told all about it, turning now and then to Hetherwick for corroboration. In the end he put a question.
"This man that Mr. Hetherwick saw in your grandfather's company?" he suggested. "Do you recognise anyone from that description?"
"No!—no one," answered the girl. "But my grandfather knew people in London whom I don't know. He has been going about a good deal since we came here, three days ago—looking out for a house."
"Well, we shall have to find that man," remarked Matherfield. "Of course, if you'd recognised the description as that of somebody known to you——"