His twitching hands touched the letter, but still without opening it: beneath the envelope he found a long, narrow visiting-card. The card said: "Miss May Ford," and in fine handwriting in pencil: "Will return." He let his head sink on the arm of the chair as he held the card in his fingers, which almost let it fall, and lapsed into thought for some moments in the silence of the room. Mechanically he rang the bell and started on seeing Francesco almost immediately before him on the other side of the desk.
"This letter was brought by hand, wasn't it?" he murmured, looking at the servant as if he saw him not.
"Yes, Excellency. It was left with the visiting-card."
"By whom?"
"By a lady, Excellency."
"A lady ... was she young?"
"No, Excellency."
"Was she alone?"
"Alone, Excellency."
"At what time?"