“I suppose you’d like to go straight up stairs?” she continued, when she had taken his hat and hung it on the stand in the hall.
“Yes, I would,” and Roy’s heart sank.
Rex must be sick, he decided, and not able to leave his bed. He followed the light haired woman to the floor above, where she threw open the door of a room with a sort of flourish.
Roy halted on the threshold. There was a double bed inside, but nobody on it nor was anybody to be seen in the apartment.
“Where is my brother?” he asked.
“Your brother?” exclaimed the woman. “I did not understand that there were two of you. Your father’s letter mentioned only one son. Wait, I will get—”
“No, there must be some mistake,” Roy interposed. “I thought my brother, Rex Pell, might be here.”
“What, you are not Eric Levens, then?”
“No, indeed, and don’t you know anything about my brother? I am so sorry.”
“I thought you were the young gentleman I expected who was to look at this room to see whether he liked it well enough to stay while his father went to Europe. But why are you sorry that I do not know anything about your brother? Have you lost him?”