Austin turned and came up a few steps to meet her.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered hurriedly, bending her charming face confidentially towards him. “I have not been able to question him about those others, or, more truthfully, I would not do so, for, as you see, he is beginning to forget, and I feared to bring the black shadow upon him again.”
“I understand, Miss Cacciola, and I’ve got some information already, from another source; but what about that key, and——”
“And the person who entered? We do not know. My uncle spoke to Boris next morning. He knew nothing, and says he is sure it was none of his friends. But that key which—she—had has never been found, and we have had the lock changed, as you said. Good-bye. Come again soon.”
She retreated, and he ran down the stairs, overtaking Winnie just outside.
“Great luck to find you, dear,” he said, falling into step beside her.
“Yes? I didn’t know you were so intimate with the Cacciolas.”
“I’m not, except that they’re so friendly and easy to get on with. I’ve only met Miss Maddelena once before—when I went around there one evening.”
“Oh, how interesting!”
She spoke quite gently, but in a tone and manner so cold and dignified that he might have been an utter stranger. He felt hurt, indignant; but his tone was as aloof as her own as he responded: