"You are quite sure?" Deane asked, with a sinking heart.
"Quite, sir," the girl answered confidently.
She made a movement as though to close the door. It is possible that Deane would have taken the hint and departed, but for that last searching look which he threw at her. He thrust his boot against the door, and resumed his place on the inner side of the threshold. From there he looked at her once more. He was right. There were traces of powder on her cheeks, and her eyebrows were certainly not natural. Underneath her trim black skirt he had caught a glimpse of brown open-worked stockings, and tan shoes with a large bow and high heels. Instinctively he felt that no ordinary servant would have been allowed to go about like this.
"I should like to see your mistress before I go," Deane said firmly. "Please go and tell her. I will not detain her more than a few moments."
"She's not in," the girl answered, with a distinct change of manner. "Please don't stay about here or I shall get into trouble."
"I am sorry," Deane answered, "but if she is not in, I am going to wait for her."
He was in the hall now,—a miserable, untidy place with a broken-down mirror and hat-rack as sole furniture, and covered with a much soiled oilcloth. The stairs were right ahead of him, and Deane looked up. He looked into a woman's face as she leaned over the well of the banisters, looking down. Almost immediately she drew away and came down.
Deane rose up to meet her. She was dressed in black, was very pale, with large earrings,—pretty in a way, and certainly not of formidable appearance.
"You wished to see me?" she asked, a little hesitatingly, as she reached the bottom stair. "I thought I heard you tell my servant that you wished to speak to her mistress."
"You are right, madam," Deane answered. "I do wish to speak to you."