The indifference of his opening
monosyllable vanished in a second. Something amazing crept into his face.
"Who?--Lady Dredlinton?" he exclaimed.
"But where are you?--Downstairs?--Yes--Yes--Why, of course.--Here?--You
mean that you are coming here, up to my room?--I don't quite
understand.--Yes, of course.--One moment, please. Come up by the east
lift unless you want to meet Sarah Baldwin and Wilshaw. They have this
moment left me. The hall porter will show you."
Wingate laid down the receiver, glanced for a moment at the clock,
hurried to the door, pushed back and secured the latch. Then he came back
into the room and stood listening.
In the end she came quite suddenly. The door had opened and closed
before he heard even the swish of her skirts. She stood there looking at
him a little appealingly. She was dressed in dark travelling clothes and
she carried a heavy dressing case in her hand. He sprang forward and
took it from her.
"My dear friend," she exclaimed, with an attempt at levity, "don't look
so tragic! There is a very simple explanation of this extraordinary
visit, as you will soon find."
"It needs no explanation," he declared.
"Oh, yes, it does, of course," she continued. "I simply want you to
intercede with the authorities here, so that I do not have to go and
stand at that terrible counter.
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