"What is it, Trappon?"
The servant turned quickly in the direction of the voice. "It's a er—er—party who wants to see Madam, mademoiselle," he replied.
"Parti? What mean you by parti? Explain yourself, Trappon."
"A person—a gentleman, mademoiselle," replied Trappon, determined to be on the safe side.
"Open the door, Trappon, that I may see this gentleman."
Trappon somewhat reluctantly complied, and a young lady stepped forward. She was tall and dark, with charming eyes which were also shrewd; she had a fine figure which a tight-fitting dress displayed rather too boldly for good taste, and she was sufficiently young to be able to appear quite girlish in the half light.
"You wish to see Madame Holymead?" she said to Rolfe. Her manner was engagingly pleasant and French.
Rolfe felt it incumbent upon him to be gallant in the presence of the fair representative of a nation whom he vaguely understood placed gallantry in the forefront of the virtues. He took off his hat with a courtly bow.
"I do, mademoiselle," he replied, "and my business is important."
"Then, monsieur, step inside if you will be so good, and I will see you."