Not of the clinging kind, evidently, he thought. A raving beauty--Diana
domesticated!
"It is four years since I saw him. He was then gray, dapper, and erect.
A mole on his chin, which he rubs when he talks. He is a valet in one
of the fashionable hotels. He is--or was--the only true friend I have in
New York."
"Was? What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid something has happened to him. I found his bedroom things
tossed about."
"What could possibly happen to a harmless old man like Mr. Gregory?"
"Pardon me, but your egg is burning!"
Kitty wheeled and lifted off the pan, choking in the smother of smoke.
She came right-about face swiftly enough. The man had not moved; and
that decided her.
"Come in. I will give you something to eat. Sit in that chair by the
window, and be careful not to stir from it. I'm a good shot," lied
Kitty, truculently. "Frankly, I do not like the looks of this."
"I do look like a burglar, what?" He sat down in the chair meekly. Food
and a human being to talk to! A lovely, self-reliant American girl,
able to take care of herself. Magnificent eyes--slate blue, with thick,
velvety black lashes. Irish.
In a moment Kitty had three eggs and half a dozen strips of bacon frying
in a fresh pan. She kept one eye upon the pan and the other upon the
intruder, risking strabismus. At length she transferred the contents of
the pan to a plate, backed to the ice chest, and reached for a bottle
of milk. She placed the food at the far end of the table and retreated
a few steps, her arms crossed in such a way as to keep the revolver in
view.
"Please do not be afraid of me.
"What makes you think I am?"
"Any woman would be."
Kitty saw that he was actually hungry, and her suspicions began to ebb.
He hadn't lied about that. And he ate like a gentleman. Young, not more
than thirty; possibly less. But that dreadful stubble and that black
eye! The clothes would have passed muster on any fashionable golf links.
A fugitive? From what?
"Thank you," he said, setting down the empty milk bottle.
"Your accent is English."
"Which is to say?"
"That your gestures are Italian."
"My mother was Italian. But what makes you believe I am not English?"
"An Englishman--or an American, for that matter--with money in his
pocket would have gone into the street in search of a restaurant."