"What do you want here--following me
about?"
"An old woman wishes to see you."
"What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see
her; I'm busy."
"She has been coming nearly every evening
since you went away, sir, always asking when you
would come back."
"Ask her w-what her business is. No; never
mind; I suppose I must go myself."
The old woman was waiting at his hall door.
She was very poorly dressed, with a face as brown
and wrinkled as a medlar, and a bright-coloured
scarf twisted round her head. As he came in
she rose and looked at him with keen black
eyes.
"You are the lame gentleman," she said, inspecting
him critically from head to foot. "I have
brought you a message from Zita Reni."
He opened the study door, and held it for her
to pass in; then followed her and shut the door,
that Bianca might not hear.
"Sit down, please. N-now, tell me who you
are."
"It's no business of yours who I am. I have
come to tell you that Zita Reni has gone away
with my son.
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