The man had evidently perceived the remarkable resemblance borne by this
uncanny stranger to the Frazer family. His replies were respectful, but
stuttering. He was alarmed by those fierce eyes, more especially because
his inability to give satisfactory information seemed to anger the
new-comer.
"You are not a child," they heard Ooma say, with menace in his tone. "You
must have heard, from her maid or some other source, where Mrs. Capella
has gone to?"
"N--no, sir," stammered the man. "I really 'aven't I t--t--thought Mrs.
C--Capella was in London. The b--butler says we are all to 'ave a 'oliday
next week."
"Is there no way in which I can find out where your mistress is at this
moment? I must see her. My business is important. It cannot wait. It is of
the utmost importance to her."
Brett, straining without like a hound in the leash, could note a slight
accentuation in the perfect English spoken by Ooma. There was just a
suspicion of the liquid "r" so strongly marked in Jiro's utterance. What
an uncanny thing is heredity! It even alters the shape of the roof of the
mouth. The Japanese of English descent could necessarily pronounce English
better than the pure-born native.
The servant within seemed to rack his brains for a favourable reply.
"You might ask Mr. Capella, sir," he said at length, with some degree of
returning confidence.
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