The girl descended and clung to his arm as they crossed the pavement.
“I shall wait here for you,” Holderness said. “Good luck to you, and good night, young lady!”
Macheson rang the bell. The door was opened at once by a footman, who eyed them in cold surprise.
“We wish to see Miss Thorpe-Hatton for two minutes,” Macheson said, producing his card. “It is really an important matter, or we would not disturb her at such an hour. She is at home, is she not?”
The footman looked exceedingly dubious. He looked from the card to Macheson, and from Macheson to the girl, and he didn’t seem to like either of them.
“Miss Thorpe-Hatton has just returned from the opera,” he said, “and she is going on to the Countess of Annesley’s ball directly. Can’t you come again in the morning?”
“Quite impossible,” Macheson declared briskly. “I am sure that Miss Thorpe-Hatton will see me for a moment if you take that card up.”
The footman studied Macheson again, and was forced to admit that he was a gentleman. He led the way into a small morning-room.
“Miss Thorpe-Hatton shall have your card, sir,” he said. “Kindly take a seat.”