Then he concentrated on his work. He was just through when Winnie rang him up, to say that Grace and her father had returned to the flat and were anxious to see him that evening, if possible.
“I’ll come round about nine, dear—perhaps earlier; but I’ve to see someone first.”
After a minute’s cogitation he rang up Cacciola. A woman’s voice answered—a delightful voice, rich and soft—in fluent English, with a mere intonation (it was slighter than an accent) that betrayed the speaker’s nationality.
“Signor Cacciola is away from home. Will you give a message?”
A dull flush rose to Austin’s face, a queer thrill passed through him.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Who is speaking? Is it Signora Giulia?”
“No. She also is not present. I am Maddelena Cacciola. What is the message?”
“I’d rather tell it to the maestro himself. When will he be home?”
“Not till—oh, very late.”
“Then is Mr. Melikoff home?”