"The gentleman said it was very important, ma'am, and I was to say so,"

said the page, with a certain chubby dignity that was almost official.

Miss Van Tuyn was now terrified. It was Arabian, and he would not go till he had seen her. She was certain of that. He would wait downstairs.

She would be a prisoner in her rooms. All her fear of him seemed to rush upon her intensified, a fear such as she had never felt before. She got up tingling all over, and with a feeling as if all the blood had suddenly sunk away from her temples.

"You must tell him--"

The page-boy was now holding out the salver with the card on it, almost as if in self-protection. Her eyes fell on it against her will, and she saw there were four printed words on it. On Arabian's card there were only two: Nicolas Arabian. Instantly she stretched out her hand and took the card up--

"General Sir Seymour Portman."

Her relief was so great that she could not conceal it.

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

"Ma'am?" said the boy, looking more official.

"Please run down--"

"Run ma'am?"

"Yes--down at once and bring the gentleman up to my sitting-room. Be as quick as you can."

The page retired with a stiff back and rather slow-moving legs.

So Adela had wasted no time! She had been as good as her word. What a splendid woman she was!

Miss Van Tuyn did something to her gown, to her hair. Not that she wanted to make an impression on Sir Seymour. Circ.u.mstances were combining at present to drive her away from her vanity. Really she acted mechanically. Then she prepared to go to the sitting-room. And then, at the bedroom door she hesitated, suddenly realizing what lay before her.

Finally she opened the door and listened. She heard almost immediately another door opened and a boy's chirpy voice say:

"This way, sir, please!"

Then she went out and came upon Sir Seymour Portman in the lobby.

"How very kind of you to come!" she said, with an attempt at eager cordiality but feeling now strangely shy and guilty. "And so early!"

"Good morning! May I put my hat here?"

"Yes, do. And leave your coat. Is it cold out?"

"Rather cold."

"This is my little room."

She went before him into the sitting-room which had a dreadfully early morning air, with its only just beginning fire, and its wintry dimness of the poor and struggling day.

"If only we could have met in the evening!" she thought.

It was awful to discuss such a situation as hers when the milkman had scarcely finished his rounds, and when her vitality had not been warmed up.

"Do sit down, Sir Seymour!" she said.

"Thank you!"

And he sat down in a businesslike sort of way, and at once began.

"Rather late last night I saw Lady Sellingworth."

"Oh? Yes?"

"She sent for me. You know why, I understand."

"Yes. I had been with her."

"She told me the whole matter."

"Oh! Did she? I--I've been awfully foolish. I deserve to--I deserve everything. I know that. Adela has been so good to me. I can never say how good. She might so easily have--I mean considering the way I have--"

She stopped. Adela could not have told Sir Seymour about the unkindness of the girl she had sent him to help. Miss Van Tuyn remembered that just in time.

"Lady Sellingworth did what you wished," said Sir Seymour, still in a quiet and businesslike way, "and consulted me. She told me what you wanted; that this man, Arabian, should be made to understand that he must finally give up any plans he had formed with regard to you."

Miss Van Tuyn felt the red beginning to creep in her cheeks.

"Yes," she said, looking down.

"Perhaps this can be done," continued Sir Seymour, in a practical way, rather like a competent man at a board meeting. "We must see."

He did not suggest that she could do it herself. She was thankful to him for that.

"Have you a photograph of this man?" he continued.

"Oh--no!"

"That is a pity."

"But why do you want--"

"I should like to have his photograph to show at Scotland Yard."

"Oh!" she exclaimed.

Her face was scarlet now. Her forehead was burning. An acute and horrible sense of shame possessed her, seemed to be wrapped round her like a stinging garment.

"I've--I've never had a photograph of him," she said.

After a short pause Sir Seymour said: