At that moment a woman and a man entered the room from the corridor by the middle door, and crossed to a divan in the corner farthest from Mrs. Clephane and Harleston. The former had her back to them; Harleston was facing their way and saw them.
The man was middle-aged, bald, and somewhat stout—and Harleston recognized one of his visitors of the early morning. The woman was sinuous, with raven hair, dead white complexion, a perfectly lovely face, and a superb figure. Harleston would have known that walk and that figure anywhere and at any time even if he had not seen her face.
It was Madeline Spencer.
VIII—The Story
Harleston quickly swung his chair around so that the broad back hid Mrs. Clephane and himself. He was quite sure that she had noticed the pair; though when he glanced at her she was looking thoughtfully at him, as if considering where to begin her story.
“Do you know the two who just came in and are sitting in the far corner,” he asked; “the slender woman and the bald-headed man?”
“No,” she answered; “except that she is an exceedingly fine-looking woman—as you doubtless have noted.”
“I’ve noted other things!” he smiled.
“About her?”
“No, not about her.”