She led Rolfe to a small, prettily-furnished room at the end of the hall, and carefully shut the door. Then she invited Rolfe to be seated, and asked him to state his business.
But this was precisely what Rolfe was not anxious to do except to Mrs.
Holymead herself.
"My business is private, and must be placed before Mrs. Holymead," he said firmly. "I wish to see her."
"I regret, monsieur, but Madame Holymead is out of town. She went last week. If you had only come before she went"—Mademoiselle Chiron looked genuinely sorry.
Rolfe was a little taken aback at this intelligence, and showed it.
"Out of town!" he repeated. "Where has she gone to?"
She looked at him almost timidly.
"But, monsieur, I do not know if I ought to tell you without knowing who you are. Are you a friend of Madame's?"
"My name is Detective Rolfe—I come from Scotland Yard," replied Rolfe, in the authoritative tone of a man who knew that the disclosure was sure to command respect, if not a welcome.
"Scotland? You come from Scotland? Madame will regret much that she has missed you."