“Parker,” she began, when the servant appeared.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Presently, in a few minutes, a gentleman will come by the gate. Be there and bring him here. Bring him through the dining room and up the back way. If possible, I prefer that no one should see him.”
“Yes, my lady. Thank your ladyship.”
At once, with that air which those acquire who attended to delicate matters, the woman drew aside the tapestry that masked the stair, which then discreetly, almost atiptoe, she descended.
As the tapestry fell again, instantly there returned to Leilah the sense of evil and impending ill. The brilliant room seemed full of terrors. In each bright corner a danger lurked. So strong was the impression that she felt it must be she was being warned, that she was being visited by those obscure phenomena which occultists call impacts from the astral, and that these were urging her to go, to meet Verplank without, in the garden, in the street, anywhere except in this fastidiousness.
Coerced by the impression, she entered an adjoining room, got there a fichu which she put on her head, a light wrap which she drew about her. Excited as she was, unaided as well, it took several minutes before she could find these accouterments. When, at last equipped, she re-entered the sitting room, she started.
Before her, his hat on, one side of his face medallioned with courtplaster, stood Verplank.
At sight of Leilah, he removed his hat which he tossed on the sofa and said at once and simply enough:
“That story of yours is false as Judas.”