'Pardon me, madam, but will you kindly allow me to enter? I wish to have a few words with you.'
Visions of housebreakers, robbing, and perhaps murdering, if their wishes were denied them, flitted through Agatha's perturbed mind. She knew she was alone in the house, and beyond the reach of any help; she also realized that all the three French windows leading out to the verandah were open; but, nevertheless, she showed a brave front. Without rising from her seat, she looked the intruder straight in the face.
'Perhaps, if you will make known your errand, I will comply with your request. You are at present a perfect stranger to me.'
Her visitor smiled. He was an elderly man, with a stoop in his shoulders, and a rather shabby great-coat buttoned tight up under his chin.
'My errand might startle you,' he said; 'I wish to get at something in the study cupboard.'
Poor Agatha's heart beat loudly. 'That you cannot do without the owner's consent,' she replied sternly, 'and he is at present abroad.'
Then with a little old-fashioned bow the stranger took off his hat.
'No, madam, he is not abroad. He is before you!'
Agatha stared at him. She saw rather kindly-looking blue eyes peering at her through thick shaggy eyebrows; a care-worn, smooth-shaven face, with a very broad intellectual brow, and a smile that somehow or other disarmed her suspicions.
'Are you—are you sure?' she faltered stupidly.