"You will have to wait in the outer room, then, miss, because he is engaged now," replied the man curtly; for the beauty of the woman, the costliness of her apparel, and the fact of her having come unattended to a place like that, filled the mind of the officer with evil suspicions concerning her.
He opened a door on the left and let the visitor pass into the anteroom—a wretched stone hall, whose floor was carpeted with dirt and whose windows were curtained with cobwebs. A bench ran along the wall at one end, on which sat several forlorn, stupefied, or desperate-looking individuals waiting their turn to be examined. Two or three policemen, walking up and down, kept these persons in custody.
Claudia could not sit down among them; she walked to one of the windows and looked out.
She waited there some time, while one after another the prisoners were taken in and examined. Some returned from examination free, and walked out unattended and wearing satisfied countenances. Others came back in the custody of policemen and with downcast looks.
It seemed long before the inspector was at leisure to receive her. At length, however, the policeman she had seen at the door came up and said:
"Now, miss!"
Claudia arose and followed him to another room—a small, carpeted office, where Inspector Murray was seated at a desk.
He was a keener observer of character than the policeman had proved himself to be; and so, despite the suspicious circumstances which had awakened that worthy's doubts, Inspector Murray recognized in his visitor a lady of rank. He arose to receive her and handed her a chair, and then seated himself and respectfully waited for her to open her business.
Lady Vincent felt so much embarrassed that it was some time before she spoke. At length, however, she took courage to say:
"My errand here is a very painful one, sir."