Leaving the embankment Wolfenden walked quickly to Half Moon Street, where his chambers were. His servant let him in and took his coat. There was an anxious expression upon his usually passive face and he appeared to be rather at a loss for words in which to communicate his news. At last he got it out, accompanying the question with a nervous and deprecating cough.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but were you expecting a young lady?”
“A what, Selby?” Wolfenden exclaimed, looking at him in amazement.
“A lady, my lord: a young lady.”
“Of course not,” said Wolfenden, with a frown. “What on earth do you mean?”
Selby gathered courage.
“A young lady called here about an hour ago, and asked for you. Johnson informed her that you might be home shortly, and she said she would wait. Johnson, perhaps imprudently, admitted her, and she is in the study, my lord.”
“A young lady in my study at this time of night!” Wolfenden exclaimed, incredulously. “Who is she, and what is she, and why has she come at all? Have you gone mad, Selby?”
“Then you were not expecting her?” the man said, anxiously. “She gave no name, but she assured Johnson that you did.”