She rose slowly to her feet, a very graceful and majestic-looking person, with a suggestion of Isobel in her thin neck and the pose of her head. She did not hold out her hand, and she surveyed me very critically. I ventured to bestow something of the same attention upon her. She was certainly a very beautiful woman, and her expression by no means displeasing. She had Isobel's dark blue eyes, and there was a humorous line about her mouth which astonished me.
"I am not offering you my hand, Mr. Greatson," she said, "because I presume that until we understand each other better it would be a mere matter of form. Still, I am glad that you have come to see me."
"I am very glad too, Madame," I answered, "especially if my visit leads to a cessation of the somewhat remarkable proceedings of the last few weeks."
The Archduchess smiled.
"Well," she said, "I am forced to admit myself beaten. I have been ill-served, it is true, but I suppose my methods are antiquated."
"They belong properly," I admitted, "to a few centuries ago."
Madame smiled a little queerly.
"A few centuries ago," she said, "I fancy that if our family history is true, the affair would have been more simple."
"I can well believe it," I answered.
Madame relapsed into her chair, from which I judged that the preliminary skirmishing was over.