"Lady Delahaye," I said, "my story may have sounded strangely, but it was true. I presume that you did not come here solely with the purpose of expressing your amiable opinion of my veracity?"
"You are quite right," she admitted drily. "I did not."
She was silent for a few moments. Her eyes were fixed upon Isobel, and I did not like their expression.
"May I offer you a chair, Lady Delahaye?" I asked.
"Thank you, I prefer to stand—here," she answered. "This, I believe, is the young person who was with my husband?"
She extended a sombrely gloved forefinger towards Isobel, who met her gaze unflinchingly.
"That is the young lady," I answered. "Have you anything to say to her?"
"My errand here is with her," Lady Delahaye declared. "What is it that you call yourself, girl?"
Isobel was a little bewildered. She seemed scarcely able to appreciate Lady Delahaye's attitude.
"My name," she said, "is Isobel de Sorrens."