Madame Rachel read the name on it with surprise.
"Lord Ranelagh!" she exclaimed, and her astonishment was genuine, for she did not know the peer. "I wonder why he has come! It can't be that he wishes to be a client."
Mrs. Borradaile was greatly impressed by the rank of the visitor, and during the quarter of an hour the "beauty specialist" was absent from the room she thought of nothing else except the exclusiveness of her visiting-list. Evidently the woman's oft-repeated claim to be in society was true.
Mrs. Borradaile knew nothing of Lord Ranelagh's reputation. He was an idler of doubtful habits, who, with advancing years, could not lose the delusion that he was a lady-killer. He spent his time running after women, and his call on Madame Rachel was simply inspired by curiosity. He did not know the woman, but he wanted to hear something of her wonderful method, rightly guessing that he would not be repulsed on account of his social position.
Madame Rachel received him with flattering cordiality, and invited him to come again. The peer accepted the invitation, and in that moment the "beauty specialist," who knew how to take advantage of an opportunity, evolved quite a brilliant scheme for the discomfiture of the widow who was waiting her return.
Affecting enthusiasm and surprise, she sank into the chair beside Mrs. Borradaile, looked at her meaningly, seized her hand, and pressed it between her own.
"I congratulate you, my dear," she whispered, to Mrs. Borradaile's unfeigned amazement. "You have achieved a wonderful conquest."
"I—I don't understand," Mrs. Borradaile stammered, thinking that Madame Rachel had gone mad.
"Lord Ranelagh!" she replied, with another pressure of her hot, fat hands. "He really came to see you. He's been following you to my establishment every day, and he called just now to inquire about you." She giggled, and her large black eyes twinkled. "Lord Ranelagh is the wealthiest bachelor peer in England," she whispered. "I congratulate you, Mrs. Borradaile, for when the treatment is finished, and you have satisfied his lordship's standard of beauty, he will make you Lady Ranelagh. He told me so in confidence, and you must never let a soul know that I've imparted the secret to you. What a great future is yours!"
From that moment Mrs. Borradaile was Madame Rachel's body and soul. The foolish woman actually agreed to pay three thousand pounds to be made beautiful, and she paid six hundred pounds on account. She was too vain to entertain the slightest doubts as to Madame Rachel's truthfulness, and when she was introduced to Lord Ranelagh at her own request, and a few commonplace remarks passed between them, she was absolutely convinced that the peer had fallen in love with her, and that when the "beauty specialist" had finished with her she would become the "Right Hon. Lady Ranelagh."