"That I can't say, mum, but 'e 'ad it, and when 'e'd gone I took the lamp in to the poor young gentleman wot was lyin' all 'uddled up on the sofa—'e said 'thank you' in a muffled voice that mournful, and I made up the fire and waited a minute but 'e didn't say no more, so I come away, an' in a few minutes the 'ouse seemed chock-full o' people. Where they come from passes me——"
"Well, get tea now, as quick as you can. I can't think where Mr Gallup can have got to."
Miss Gallup lit a candle and went straight upstairs to her nephew's room. His clothes were still in the drawers as she, herself, had arranged them—but the suit-case, the smart new leather suit-case, with E. A. G. in large black letters upon its lid, was gone.
Miss Gallup sank heavily on a chair. What could it mean?
She immediately connected the advent of the strange young lady and the disappearance of her nephew's suit-case.
She took off her bonnet and cloak and did not put them away, but left them lying on her bed; a sure sign of perturbation with Miss Gallup, who was the tidiest of mortals.
She sought Em'ly-Alice in the bright little kitchen. "What was the young lady like?" she asked.
"Oh a superior young person, Miss, all in black."
"Young, was she?" Miss Gallup remarked suspiciously.
"Yes, Miss, quite young, I should say—about my own age; I couldn't see 'er face very well, but she did talk like the gentry, very soft and distinct."