They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Who is it?” The man came a little further into the room. Why? Here was a curtain indeed. ‘Yes, tell us everything at once,’ instructed Lucilla, pushing him towards the sofa she had vacated, and obliging him to sit beside her. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown.
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