As they drew near she half rose from her seat, but resumed it. They passed, evidently too intent on each other to spare a glance for anyone else, and as they did so she heard the girl say, in a rich, vibrant voice, peculiarly distinct in the quietude:
“It may be as you say, but what does Sir Robert want with him?”
Sir Robert! Of whom were they speaking? Could it be Sir Robert Rawson?
She could not hear Austin’s reply, and though she started up impulsively she did not follow them—merely watched them cross the bridge and disappear from view.
She guessed that the girl was Cacciola’s niece, whom Austin certainly had mentioned when he told her of his visit, and of the disappointing result of his inquiries up to the present, but only in a casual manner. He must have developed the acquaintance swiftly in these few weeks!
She walked slowly back, turning the matter over in her mind perplexedly.
“There’s a lady waiting to see you, ma’am,” said the lift-man, a cheery, grizzled old veteran, and one of her staunch admirers.
“Waiting—where?”
“Why on the landing outside your door, ma’am. Sitting on a box she came with. I wanted her to come down to my missus, knowing you were out, but she wouldn’t.”