“A very respectable-looking person, sir. The other must be a governess or a lady’s maid.”
“Where are they?”
“In the ante-chamber.”
“Turn on the electricity in my room, and show them in.”
Baudoin did as he was ordered. Uncle Graff continued his descent, murmuring to himself—
“Another of Marcel’s escapades! I wonder what it is this time.”
On approaching his room he saw, standing by the door, a young lady dressed in black, and wearing a veil. Uncle Graff’s first impression was a favourable one. Pointing to a seat, he said kindly—
“My nephew, madame, is not at home. Cannot I—”
He was not allowed to finish the sentence. The young lady said in beseeching tones—
“Monsieur, it is a question of life or death.”