“Is Miss Miller at home? If so, I’d like to see her.” And I handed her my card.
I was shown into the morning-room, and in a few minutes Miller’s sister appeared.
“I’m so sorry, Mr Leaf,” she said, in her thin, weak voice, “but my brother and his daughter left quite suddenly yesterday. He received a telegram recalling him.”
“Where?”
“To Italy. He left by the mail from Charing Cross last night—direct for Leghorn, I believe.”
“Is he likely to be away long?”
“He won’t be back, I suppose, before the spring.”
“And Miss Lucie has gone with him?”
“Of course. She is always with him.”
It was upon my tongue to ask her brother’s address in Leghorn, but I hesitated, for I recollected that, being an Englishman, he could be easily found.