presently, a lady came flying down the stairs, about seven steps at a time, and all but flung herself into my arms.
"You've brought me news of Bessie? Oh, I am so glad! I've been half-beside myself; I haven't slept a wink all night I was really just wondering if I hadn't better communicate with the police. Oh, please will you step in there?"
I stepped in there. "There" was a sitting-room. From the wall looked down on me, as I entered, a life-size portrait of my visitor of the plum-coloured cloak. The face was turned directly towards me; the eyes seemed to be subjecting me to a serious examination. I did not care to meet them; in their presence I was conscious of a vague discomfort The atmosphere was redolent of a feminine personality. On every hand were the owner's little treasures. I pictured her flitting here and there among them, touching this, altering the position of that, dumbly inquiring of me all the time, with, in her air, a touch of resentment, what I did in her apartment.
Miss Adair perceived that I was not so ready with my tongue as I might have been. There was a sharp note of anxiety in her voice.
"There's nothing wrong with Bessie, is there?"
I stammered, like an ass, "I—I'm afraid there is."
