“Though we have seen Mr. Romayne,” said the elder, “since, ah, but much since we had the pleasure to see his mother. It was in Alexandria in the winter past—we hoped that some concerts there might be possible, but there is so much jealousy and favouritism—it was in Alexandria that we met him. He was travelling in Egypt, he told to us.”
“Yes!” said Mrs. Romayne, smothering a yawn. “He was in Egypt——” she stopped suddenly, and her eyes seemed to contract strangely. “Where did you say you saw him?” she said.
“It was in Alexandria! He was there for the day only, and he was to us most kind. He arrived in the morning early by the same train, and he showed us much until at night he left.”
“At Alexandria?”
“Surely! At Alexandria!”
“You must have made a mistake. It was some other place.”
Mrs. Romayne’s tone was curiously unlike that in which she had conducted the early part of the conversation. It was sharp and direct. Fräulein Schmitz seemed to notice and resent the change.
“But we have not made a mistake, I must assure you!” she said stiffly. “It was at Alexandria. We saw him go away in the train.”
There was a moment’s pause. Mrs. Romayne was looking straight before her with those strangely contracted eyes; her lips a thin, pale line. The sisters waited a moment, evidently affronted. Then, finding that Mrs. Romayne took no notice whatever of them, they exchanged resentful glances, and the elder spoke.
“We will say good-bye!” she said formally. “It is time that we were going!”