CHAPTER XXXII

Within two weeks of Lewis’s departure for South America, Leighton returned from his shooting-trip.  Despite the fact that he had not written telling Lewis he was coming, he felt a great chagrin at finding the flat deserted except for the ever-faithful Nelton.

“Where’s the boy?” was Leighton’s first question.  Even as he stepped across the threshold he felt that he stepped into an empty house.

“South America,” said Nelton, relieving his master of hat, stick, and gloves.

“South America!” cried Leighton, dismayed, and then smiled.  “Well, he’s getting his dad’s tricks early.  What for?”

“Don’t know, sir.  Mr. Lewis said as you’d get it from her ladyship.”

Lady Derl was out of town.  Leighton followed her, stayed two days, decided her momentary entourage was not to his taste, and returned to London.  He reached the flat in the afternoon, just in time to receive a caller.  The caller was Vi.

“Hallo!” said Leighton as Nelton showed her in, “this is fortune.  Take off your things and stay.”

“I will—­some of them,” drawled Vi; “but not just yet.”  She sat down.

“What on earth are you doing in town?” asked Leighton.

“Well,” said Vi, “up to three weeks ago I was here at the beck and call of your son.  Then he suddenly took French leave.”  She turned and faced Leighton.  “Where has he gone?  It isn’t like one of you to be rude in little things.”

“I don’t think Lew meant to be rude,” said Leighton.  “He’s gone to South America.  He heard about some cousins he ’d lost track of, and he just bolted the next morning.”

“Cousins!” said Vi.  “I didn’t know any one still went in for family ties to the extent of South America, short of a fat death.”

“No,” said Leighton, smiling; there’s no money in this trip.  Why were you at his beck and call?”

“Model,” said Vi, coolly.  “He’s been doing me.”

“Doing you!” said Leighton, looking at her curiously.

“There, there,” said Vi, “don’t let your imagination run away with you.  Not in the nude.  By the way, can you let me have the key?  I left something in the studio, and I didn’t like to go to Nelton.”

“Certainly,” said Leighton.  “I’ll walk by there with you.”

Vi gave a shrug of protest, but Leighton’s back was already turned.  He fetched the key, and together they walked over to Lewis’s atelier.  When they had climbed the stairs and were at the door, Vi said a little breathlessly and without a drawl: 

“Do you mind very much not coming in?  I won’t be but a minute.”

Leighton glanced at her, surprised.  “Not at all,” he said, and handed her the key.  He took out a cigarette and lit it as she opened the door and closed it behind her.  He started pacing up and down the bare hall.  Presently he grew impatient, and glanced at his watch; then he stopped short in his tracks.  From behind the closed door came unmistakably the sound of a woman sobbing.