"I am sorry, Mrs. Ward, but the late Lady Derrington's veils are not modern enough for you."
"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Ward, who appeared flurried. "Please tell your man to call a cab. I sent away the carriage."
"Let me send you home in mine."
"No! No, I want to go at once," and she approached the door quickly. "When did you say Mr. Ireland was coming?"
Derrington glanced at his watch. "He is due now," he said, and looked at her, wondering why she asked the question.
Mrs. Ward's face was turned away. She was dressed in furs and carried a muff. When the door was opened by the footman a gentleman appeared on the threshold. Mrs. Ward lifted her muff to her face, but not before the stranger had caught sight of her face and had uttered an ejaculation of surprise. "You!" he said, stepping forward.
"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Ward, with her face still hidden. "Lord Derrington, this friend of yours is making a mistake. Tell that man to be quick calling a cab." And she moved past the stranger.
"Pardon," he said politely, "but I wish to speak with you."
Derrington bent his bushy brows. "Let the lady pass," he said; "who are you, sir, to stop the egress of my guests?"
"My name is Rodger Ireland," said the stranger, quietly, "and I have been looking for that lady for over thirty years."