CHAPTER IX.
As it happened, his uncle had not been gone many hours, when a respectable-looking young woman, with an intelligent face, asked for Mr. Twisden, and said she had come to claim her trunk. She was shown into the inner office, where George sat in his uncle's chair of state.
"You are Miss Shaw's maid? Where did you leave her?" asked the young man, jauntily.
"I beg your pardon, sir. Are you Mr. Twisden? I understood Mr. Twisden was an elderly gentleman."
"I am Mr. Twisden's nephew and representative. You can speak openly to me. My uncle is ill, and has left London."
"I was to give this to Mr. Twisden—himself, sir." She held out a letter.
"It shall be delivered to him," said George, taking the letter. Then, as he held it carelessly in his hand, "Do you wish to see Mr. Twisden? Are you remaining in London?"
"No, sir; I shall go down to my friends in Devonshire by an evening train."
"Then you have definitely left Miss Shaw's service?"
"Yes, sir; she said I was no use abroad, as I did not speak any foreign language. But she behaved very
