“I have been waiting and watching for two days, with the patience of a determined man of set and immutable purpose, to get an opportunity for a private interview with you. The opportunity has now rewarded my vigilance. Meet me at once, in the house or out of it.”
There was no signature.
Mrs. Force put the note into the fire, saw it blaze and consume in an instant, and then arose, saying to her guests:
“You will excuse me for a few moments?”
“You bet! I know a housekeeper has got to look after her help, I reckon, or there’d be fine doings. We weren’t plagued with help at Wild Cats’—not much we weren’t! But go along with you now!” said Mrs. Anglesea.
“Is it a bill? I hate bills! ’Specially when I haven’t got the money to pay ’em, though I am descended from the Duke of——”
But Mrs. Force had gone to the door, passed out, closed it behind her, and was speaking to the man who had brought the note.
“Where is the gentleman who gave you this?”
“It was the colonel, ma’am,” replied the man, in a low voice, as if conscious of naming an objectionable visitor; “and he is standing at the front door.”
“Then bring him into the drawing room,” she said, as she passed on and entered the place first.