‘You seem to be all alone,’ she began. I was all alone; I had never thought that anyone could feel so utterly alone as I did in that crowded lounge. ‘Miss Lee, why do you look at me like that?’ I was looking at her as if I wished her to understand that I was looking into her very soul – if she had one. Her smiling serenity of countenance was incredible to me, knowing what I knew. ‘Have you had bad news from home, or from Mr and Mrs Travers, or are you unhappy because Mrs Hawthorne has gone? You seem so different. What has been the matter with you the whole of today?’
I was on the point of giving an explanation which I think might have startled her when I happened to glance across the room. At a table near the open window, Mr Sterndale was sitting with Miss Goodridge. They were having coffee. Although Miss Goodridge was sitting sideways, she continually turned her head to watch me, Mr Sterndale was sitting directly facing me. He had a cigarette in one hand, and every now and then he sipped his coffee, but most of the time he talked. But, although I could not even hear the sound of his voice, I saw what he said as distinctly as if he had been shouting in my ear. It was the sentence he was uttering which caused me to defer the explanation which I had it in my mind to give to his sister.
‘Of course, the girl’s a thief – I’m afraid that goes without saying.’ It was that sentence which was issuing from his lips at the moment when I chanced to glance in his direction which caused the explanation I had been about to make to his sister to be deferred.
Miss Goodridge had her coffee cup up to her mouth, so I could not see what she said; but if I had been put to it I might have made a very shrewd guess by the reply he made. He took his cigarette from his lips, blew out a thin column of smoke, leaned back in his chair – and all the time he was looking smilingly at me with what he meant me to think were the eyes of a friend.
‘It’s all very well for you to talk. I may have had my suspicions, but it is only within the last hour or two that they have been confirmed.’
She said something which again I could not see; his reply suggested that she must have asked a question.
‘I’ll tell you what I mean by saying that my doubts have been confirmed. A man was passing through this afternoon with whom I have some acquaintance – the Rector of Leeds.’ I wonder he did not say the Bishop of London. ‘He saw – our friend – ’ He made a slight inclination of his head towards me. ‘At sight of her he exclaimed: “Halloa, there’s that Burnett girl!” For a parson he has rather a free and easy way of speaking; he’s one of your modern kind.’
I believed him!
‘“Burnett girl?” I said. “But her name’s Lee – Judith Lee.” “Oh, she calls herself Lee now, does she? That settles it.” “Settles what?” I asked, because I saw that there was something in his tone. “My dear Reggie,” he said (he always calls me Reggie; I’ve known him for years), “at the beginning of the season that girl whom you call Judith Lee was at Pontresina, staying in the same hotel as I was. She called herself Burnett then. Robberies were going on all the time, people were continually missing things. At last a Russian woman lost a valuable lot of jewellery. That settled it – Miss Burnett went.”’
Miss Goodridge turned so that her face was hidden; but, as before, his reply gave me a pretty good clue as to the question she had asked.
‘Of course I mean it. Do you think I’d say a thing like that if I didn’t mean it? I won’t tell you all he said – it wouldn’t be quite fair. But it came to this. He said that the young lady whom we have all thought so sweet and innocent –’
Miss Goodridge interposed with a remark which, in a guessing competition, I think I could have come pretty near to. He replied:
‘Well, I’ve sometimes felt that you were rather hard on her, that perhaps you were a trifle prejudiced.’
Miss Goodridge turned her face towards me, and then I saw her words.
‘I’m a better judge of feminine human nature than you suppose. The first moment I saw her I knew she was a young cat, though I admit I didn’t take her to be as bad as she is. What did your clerical friend say of her, of the Miss Burnett whom we know now as Miss Lee?’
I did not wait to learn his answer – I had learnt enough. What his sister thought of my demeanour I did not care; I had been dimly conscious that she had been talking to me all the while, but what she was saying I do not know. My attention had been wholly taken up with what I did not hear. Before he began his reply to Miss Goodridge’s genial inquiry I got up from my chair and marched out of the lounge, without saying a word to Miss Sterndale. When I had gone a little way I remembered that I had left my handkerchief – my best lace handkerchief – on the table by which I had been sitting. Even in the midst of my agitation I was conscious that I could not afford to lose it, so went back for it.
Miss Sterndale had joined her brother and Miss Goodridge. Two or three other people were standing by them, evidently interested in what was being said. I found my handkerchief. As I was going off with
