“I want to see Miss Prince,” said the husky voice Lucy remembered only too well. Then came a surprise: “Why, it’s Lucy Warren! Tell me—do you know if Mr. Garlett was committed for trial this morning?”
Lucy stared at the unexpected visitor, remembering that Miss Cheale was supposed to be too ill to leave London.
“I don’t know what’s happened to Mr. Garlett. I’m expecting Miss Prince back every minute. She’ll have found out for sure,” said Lucy coldly. “Come in, do! You look perished with cold, miss.”
Agatha Cheale came through into the warm kitchen. She loosened her concealing veil, and Lucy saw that her face was thin and worn. She looked very ill, and though there seemed nothing in common between her and her big, fair brother, yet to-day Lucy did see a kind of family resemblance which made her heart beat faster, and impelled her to do a thing she would have thought herself incapable of doing even for Miss Prince. It was in a tone of kindly sympathy that she exclaimed:
“Sit you down, miss, and I’ll take off your boots and bring a pair of shoes for you to put on!”
Agatha Cheale sat down wearily.
“I’ll take off my boots myself,” she said, “but I shall be glad of the shoes, though I can’t stay long.”
“Mother’s fretted a deal about Mr. Cheale,” said Lucy nervously. “Is he quite well?”
A challenging look flashed between the two young women, and then Agatha Cheale said coldly:
“I have no idea where my brother is. The last time I saw him was about a month after he left here. He was then going abroad.”