He looked at me somewhat suspiciously, I thought,
until I gave my card and impressed upon him meaningly that I had come
from London purposely to see his young mistress upon a very important
matter.
"Tell her," I said, "that I wish to see her regarding her friend, Miss
Elma Heath."
"Miss Elma 'Eath," repeated the man. "Very well, sir. Will you walk this
way?"
And then I followed him across the big old oak-paneled hall, filled with
trophies of the chase and arms of the civil wars, into a small paneled
room on the left, the deep-set window with its diamond panes giving out
upon the old bowling-green and the flower-garden beyond.
Presently the door opened, and a tall dark-haired girl in white entered
with an enquiring expression upon her face as she halted and bowed to
me.
"Miss Lydia Moreton, I believe?" I commenced, and as she replied in the
affirmative I went on: "I have first to apologize for coming to you, but
Miss Sotheby, the principal of the school at Chichester, referred me to
you for information as to the present whereabouts of Miss Elma Heath,
who, I believe, was one of your most intimate friends at school.
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