"If you will, please. The mail can wait until later, but this is rather important."
The air was as mild as on a spring day and Betty's heart leaped as she passed out of the gateway to the broad, untrammeled avenue. She glanced back sharply at the house, but no one was visible, and its windows stared blankly at her.
Rounding the corner, she set out across town at a brisk pace, her blood tingling in her veins and the soft wind bringing a flush to her pale cheeks. Her gaze was introspective rather than curious and she boarded the southbound omnibus almost mechanically, although she scrutinized her fellow passengers with grave intentness.
A ride of some twenty minutes brought her to the doors of the Lorilton, which proved to be a huge, ornately constructed apartment house in a somewhat less exclusive locality than the North Drive.
A gaudily upholstered elevator deposited Betty on the tenth floor and in response to her ring, the apartment door was opened by a smug-faced Japanese butler who ushered her silently into the drawing-room.
She took a swift mental inventory of her surroundings as she waited. The room presented an odd mixture of real artistic treasures, and the basest of imitations; rare tapestries hung upon the walls between wretched copies of masterpieces, a hideous terra cotta statuette overshadowing a Ming vase, and an exquisite Buhl cabinet was filled with the most trumpery of knickknacks.
Madame Cimmino made her appearance in a gorgeous but somewhat soiled kimona. Her sallow cheeks were highly rouged and the jeweled hoops which tugged at her ears seemed oddly garish in the light of day.
"The packet? Ah, yes, I have it," she murmured in response to Betty's request. "You came alone? You are learning, then, to find your way in this strange city; that is well."
She clapped her hands, and when the butler appeared, jabbered rapidly to him in his native tongue, while Betty sat with her face averted. The functionary disappeared, to return almost immediately bearing a small package which Madame Cimmino placed in the girl's hands.
"Be careful that you do not lose it, my dear," she warned her at the door, adding with a flash of her white teeth, "Some day when you have leisure, little mouse, you shall come and have tea with me, if Mrs. Atterbury permits. I like American young girls."