He knocked at the door of Mrs. Finn's little house in Park Lane a few minutes before the time appointed, and found himself alone when he was shown into the drawing-room. He had heard much of this lady though he had never seen her, and had heard much also of her husband. There had been a kind of mystery about her. People did not quite understand how it was that she had been so intimate with the Duchess, nor why the late Duke had left to her an enormous legacy, which as yet had never been claimed. There was supposed, too, to have been something especially romantic in her marriage with her present husband. It was believed also that she was very rich. The rumours of all these things together had made her a person of note, and Tregear, when he found himself alone in the drawing-room, looked round about him as though a special interest was to be attached to the belongings of such a woman. It was a pretty room, somewhat dark, because the curtains were almost closed across the windows, but furnished with a pretty taste, and now, in these early April days, filled with flowers.
"I have to apologise, Mr. Tregear, for keeping you waiting," she said as she entered the room.
"I fear I was before my time."
"I know that I am after mine,—a few minutes," said the lady.
He told himself that though she was not a young woman, yet she was attractive. She was dark, and still wore her black hair in curls, such as are now seldom seen with ladies. Perhaps the reduced light of the chamber had been regulated with some regard to her complexion and to her age. The effect, however, was good, and Frank Tregear felt at once interested in her.
"You have just come up from Matching?" he said.
"Yes; only the day before yesterday. It is very good of you to come to me so soon."
"Of course I came when you sent for me. I am afraid the Duke felt his loss severely."
"How should he not, such a loss as it was? Few people knew how much he trusted her, and how dearly he loved her."
"Silverbridge has told me that he is awfully cut up."