"What is it, then? I have told you—I am busy."
Holmes looked apologetic. He found the abrupt ways of the new secretary somewhat disconcerting. "It's a young lady, sir," he explained rather diffidently. "It's Miss Wyndham. She run in here for shelter, and, seeing as Mr. Mordaunt be out, I didn't know whether you would wish me to show her up or not, sir."
Bertrand was on his feet in a moment. "A young lady! Miss Wyndham! Who is—Miss Wyndham?"
"It's the young lady as Mr. Mordaunt is a-going to marry," said Holmes, dropping his voice confidentially. "I told her as Mr. Mordaunt weren't in, and she said as she'd like to wait. Didn't know quite what to do, sir. Would you like me to show her up?"
"But certainly!" De Montville's eyebrows had gone up an inch, but he lowered them hastily and smiled. Doubtless it was an English custom, this; he must not display surprise. "Beg her to ascend," he said. "Mr. Mordaunt may return at any moment. He would not wish his fiancée to remain below."
"Very good, sir." Holmes withdrew, leaving the door ajar.
Bertrand remained upon his feet, watching it expectantly.
At the sound of voices on the stairs he smiled involuntarily. But how they were droll—these English ladies! Would he ever accustom himself—
"Miss Wyndham, sir!" It was Holmes again, opening the door wide to usher in the unexpected visitor.
Bertrand bowed low.