“You don’t have to do that, Alexis,” she whispered.
His lips salty with her tears, he continued somewhat unsteadily.
“Do you want to know how I found you, little cousin? It was really very simple although long drawn out. Ito watched you from the window as you left the house. He saw you enter a taxi. (Something odd in your appearance and manner had frightened him. Let me see, that was three days ago, wasn’t it?)”
She nodded mutely, and he continued.
“When you didn’t arrive home that night, he called up the taxi company and they traced you to the church door. Knowing your religious proclivities,” they smiled tremulously at each other, “I interviewed several of the priests and finally found the one to whom you had confessed.”
“That must have been horrible!” Claire interrupted with forced levity. A growing fear was in her eyes. “What did he tell you?” She sat up in bed. A deep flush suddenly replaced her former pallor.
Her agonized embarrassment did not escape Alexis. He broke in quickly, “Nothing at all, of course. Secrecy of the confessional and all that, you know.”
She collapsed upon the pillows. Disregarding her obvious agitation, Alexis went on quietly.
“He merely told me that you seemed ill. That perhaps you had fainted in the street and been taken to some hospital. I thought it an excellent suggestion, and after calling up about four or five hospitals and describing you and your clothes (you can thank Ito for that—he knew what you had on to the last detail), we finally succeeded in discovering you here. That is all.” Releasing her hand, which he had held in his all this time, he patted it gently.
She looked up into his face with grateful eyes.