The servant who answered his
ring informed him, in reply to his question, that Mrs. Holymead was
"Not at home."
"Do you know when she will be home?" persisted Rolfe, forestalling an
evident desire on the servant's part to shut the door in his face.
The man looked at Rolfe doubtfully. Well-trained English servant though
he was, and used to summing up strangers at a glance, he could not quite
make out who Rolfe might be. But before he could come to a decision on
the point a feminine voice behind him said:
"What is it, Trappon?"
The servant turned quickly in the direction of the voice. "It's a
er--er--party who wants to see Madam, mademoiselle," he replied.
"_Parti?_ What mean you by _parti_? Explain yourself, Trappon."
"A person--a gentleman, mademoiselle," replied Trappon, determined to be
on the safe side.
"Open the door, Trappon, that I may see this gentleman."
Trappon somewhat reluctantly complied, and a young lady stepped forward.
She was tall and dark, with charming eyes which were also shrewd; she had
a fine figure which a tight-fitting dress displayed rather too boldly for
good taste, and she was sufficiently young to be able to appear quite
girlish in the half light.
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