_Vice-President of the
Tri-State Trust Company,
New York._
"Your pardon, sir," said the butler before he closed the door, and
With a nod of the head towards the street. "Your car--does it need
attention, sir? Our garage is only half a block away. Shall I send out
and tell your chauffeur, sir?"
Ilingsworth's glance followed that of the butler's. A blue limousine
stood throbbing at the curb. It had evidently been there all the while,
though Ilingsworth had failed to observe it.
"It's not my car," he returned brusquely.
Again a puzzled look came over the servant's face, but concealing his
embarrassment, he closed the door.
"Very good, sir," he said. "Kindly step this way."
Ilingsworth followed him down the long hall to the entrance of a room
before which stood another servant.
"Step into the reception-room, sir, if you please," said the butler.
But, to the astonishment of both men, the footman advanced and waved
them back, saying:
"One moment, please, sir." And oblivious to the fact that Ilingsworth
was standing in the middle of the broad hall, he drew the butler to one
side, whispered in a confidential, off-duty aside: "You must not take
him in there. Put him somewhere else."
"Why not?" asked the butler. "Who's in there?"
The footman became inexcusably mysterious. He looked about him on all
sides to see that he was unheard. Then he shaded his mouth with his
hand and placed his lips close to the other's ear.
"Her," he whispered.
The butler eyed the footman sharply.
"Her!" he exclaimed. "Who's she?"
"There's only one her," he answered, and pursed his lips as though
about to perpetrate an explosion. And then it came: "Miss Braine, of
course. Here's her card."
The man who had admitted Giles Ilingsworth stiffened when he looked
upon this card, which read: