Seaman had the air of a man not wholly satisfied.
“Is it usual to lock up a sitting-room in this fashion?” he asked.
“Mr. Parkins always does it, sir. The cabinets of cigars are kept there, also the wine-cellar key and the key of the plate chest. None of the other servants use the room except at Mr. Parkins' invitation.”
“I understand,” Seaman said, as he turned away. “Much obliged for your information, Reynolds. I will speak to Mr. Parkins later.”
“I will let him know that you desire to see him, sir.”
“Good night, Reynolds!”
“Good night, sir!”
Seaman passed back again to the crowded hall and billiard-room, exchanged a few remarks here and there, and made his way up the southern flight of stairs toward the west wing. Stephanie consented without hesitation to receive him. She was seated in front of the fire, reading a novel, in a boudoir opening out of her bedroom.
“Princess,” Seaman declared, with a low bow, “we are in despair at your desertion.”
She put down her book.