He disappeared into his office, thrusting his head out, a moment or two later, with the telephone receiver still in his hand.
“Mrs. Gardner would like the name again, sir, please,” he remarked.
Tavernake repeated it firmly.
“You might say,” he added, “that I shall not detain her for more than a few minutes.”
The man disappeared once more. When he returned, he indicated the lift to Tavernake.
“If you will go up to the fifth floor, sir,” he said, “Mrs. Gardner will see you.”
Tavernake found his courage almost leaving him as he knocked at the door of her rooms. Her French maid ushered him into the little sitting-room, where, to his dismay, he found three men, one sitting on the table, the other two in easy-chairs. Elizabeth, in a dress of pale blue satin, was standing before the mirror. She turned round as Tavernake entered.
“Mr. Tavernake shall decide!” she exclaimed, waving her hand to him. “Mr. Tavernake, there is a difference of opinion about my earrings. Major Post here,”—she indicated a distinguished-looking elderly gentleman, with carefully trimmed beard and moustache, and an eyeglass attached to a thin band of black ribbon—“Major Post wants me to wear turquoises. I prefer my pearls. Mr. Crease half agrees with me, but as he never agrees with any one, on principle, he hates to say so. Mr. Faulkes is wavering. You shall decide; you, I know, are one of those people who never waver.”
“I should wear the pearls,” Tavernake said.
Elizabeth made them a little courtesy.