"If it is Rosemary, when she knows who you are she won't——" began Jim, but I cut him short. I repeated again the same obstinate words: "It is not Rosemary."
I called up Mrs. Guy Brandreth at nine o'clock next morning, and heard the rich contralto voice asking "Who is it?"
"Lady Courtenaye at Willard's Hotel," I boldly answered. "I've come from England on purpose to see you. I have very important things to say."
There was a slight pause; then the voice answered with a new vibration in it: "When can you come? Or—no! When can you have me call on you? That would be better."
"I can have you call as soon as you care to start," I replied. "The sooner the better."
"I'm not dressed," said the quivering voice. "But I'll be with you at ten o'clock."
I told Jim, and we arranged that he should be out of the way till ten-thirty. Then he was to walk into our private sitting room, where I would receive Mrs. Brandreth. I thought that by that time we should be ready for him.