The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(241)
“And,” he added, “on your way back call at the Castle, see Lord Guilleroy, and give him the news.” He turned a pleading face towards Loveday. “This is good news—you consider it good news, do you not?” he asked piteously.
“It won’t do to depend too much on it, will it?” said Mrs. Greenhow. “You see, there have been so many false alarms—if I may use the word.”—This was said to Loveday.—“Three times last week we had telegrams from different parts of the country saying dear René had been seen—now here, now there, I think there must be a good many girls like her wandering about the world.”
“The dress has something to do with it, no doubt,” answered Loveday; “it is not a very distinctive one. Still, we must hope for the best. It is possible, of course, that at this very moment the young lady may be on her way home with a full explanation of what has seemed extraordinary conduct on her part. Now, if you will allow me, I will go to my room. And will you please give the order that Maddalena shall follow me there as quickly as possible?”
Loveday’s thoughts were very busy when, in the quietude of her own room, she sank into an easy chair beside the fire. The case to which she had so unwillingly devoted her attention was beginning to present some interesting intricacies. She passed in view the dramatis personae of the little drama which she could only hope might not end in a tragedy. The broken-hearted father; the would-be-step-mother, with her feline affinities; the faithful maid; the cruel-tempered lover; the open-faced, energetic one; each in turn received their meed of attention.
“That man would be one to depend on in an emergency,” she said to herself, allowing her thoughts to dwell a little longer upon Lord Guilleroy than upon the others. “He has, I should say, a good head on his shoulders and—”
But here a tap-tap at the door brought her thinking to a standstill, and in response to her “come in” the door opened and the maid Lena entered.
She was a tall, black-eyed, dark-skinned woman of about thirty, dressed in a neat black stuff gown. Twelve years of English domestic life had considerably modified the outer tokens of her nationality; a gold dagger that kept a thick coil of hair in its place, and a massive Roman-cut cameo ring on the third finger of her right hand, were about the only things that differentiated her appearance from that of the ordinary English lady’s maid. Possibly as a rule she wore a pleasant, smiling expression of countenance. For the moment, however, her face was shadowed by a sullen scowl, that said plainly as words could: “I am here very much against my will, and intend to render you the most unwilling of services.”
Loveday felt that she must be taken in hand at once.
“You are Miss Golding’s maid, I believe?” she said in a short, sharp tone.
“Yes, madame.” This in a slow, sullen one.
“Very well, Kindly unstrap that portmanteau and open my dressing-bag. I am glad you are to wait upon me while I am here. I don’t suppose you ever before in your life acted maid to a lady detective?”
“Never, madame.” This in a still more sullen tone than before.
“Ah, it will be a new experience to you, and I hope that it may be made a profitable one also. Tell me, are you saving up money to get married?”
Lena, on her knees unstrapping the portmanteau, started and looked up.
“How does madame know that?” she asked, Loveday pointed to the cameo ring on her third finger. “I only guessed at such a possibility,” she answered. “Well, now, Lena, I am going to make you an offer. I will give you fifty pounds—fifty, remember, in English gold—if you will procure for me certain information that I require in the prosecution of my work here.”