‘Good-bye,’ said Anne for answer, and she walked away down the lane and turned off at the opening that led into the London road.
CHAPTER VIII
On a warm summer evening, some three weeks later, Richard Meadowes sat in the library of his town house thinking, perhaps not unnaturally, of Anne Champion and wondering where she was.
‘Dr. Sebastian Shepley, to wait upon you, sir,’ said the man-servant, showing some one in, and Meadowes rose to greet his visitor, feeling the room strangely warm.
‘Ah, Shepley,’ was all he said for welcome to the tall steady-eyed man who came forward into the room.
Shepley sat down opposite to Richard Meadowes and facing the sunlight. His pleasant blue eyes rested on Meadowes inquiringly for a moment.
‘I fear I have intruded on you, sir,’ he said, noticing the other man’s embarrassment.
‘I—I am pleased to see you,’ said Meadowes, not with absolute veracity. The situation seemed at that moment intolerable to him—better, he thought, make a quick end of it.
‘You have heard about Anne Champion?’ he said, forcing himself to look straight at Sebastian Shepley.
‘I am come for no other reason than to ask your aid in the matter,’ said Shepley, ‘for the last I have heard of Anne was the message of thanks you gave me from her anent the amber necklace. Often as I’ve writ to her I have heard never a word in answer. Tell me, sir, do you know aught of where she went?’