The door opened. A small, sharp-faced boy poked in his head. "A lady to see you, sir."
"What?" said Field. His frown deepened. "I can't see any one. I told you so."
"Says she won't go away till she's seen you, sir," returned the boy glibly. "Can't get her to budge, sir."
"Oh, tell her—" said Field, and stopped as if arrested by a sudden thought. "Who is it?" he asked.
A grin so brief that it might have been a mere twitch of the features passed over the boy's face.
"Wouldn't give no name, sir. But she's a nob of some sort," he said. "Got a shiny satin dress on under her cloak."
Field's eyes went for a moment to his littered papers. Then he picked up a newspaper from a chair and threw it over them.
"Show her in!" he said briefly.
He got up with the words, and stood with his back to the window, watching the half-open door.
There came a slight rustle in the passage outside. The small boy reappeared and threw the door wide with a flourish. A woman in a dark cloak and hat with a thick veil over her face entered.