"Yes, Warrington--a letter to her? Read it--quick," I heard
Garrick's tense voice repeating. "I see. Her maid Lucille was
taken very ill a few days ago and she allowed her to go to her
brother who lives on Ninth Street. I understand. Now--the letter."
I could not hear what was said over the telephone, but later
Garrick repeated it to me and I afterwards saw the letter itself
which I may as well reproduce here. It said:
"Since I left you, mademoiselle, I am very ill here at the home of
my brother. I have a nice room in the back of the house on the
first floor and now that I am getting better I can sit up and look
out of the window.
"I am very ill yet, but the worst is past and some time when you
are in New York I wish I could see you. You have always been so
good to me, mademoiselle, that I hope I may soon be back again, if
you have not a maid better than your poor Lucille.
"Your faithful servant,
"LUCILLE DE VEAU."
"And she's already in the city?" asked Garrick of Warrington as he
finished reading the letter.
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