"I am Hagar; and you are?"
"Doctor Vaughan."
"Then pass on, sir; the one you seek is there."
And the old woman waved her hand toward the light and hobbled on.
Clarence stared after her for a moment; but the darkness had devoured her, and he resumed his way toward the cottage.
In hastening to meet a friend we naturally have, in our mind, a picture. Our friend will look so, or so. Thus with Clarence Vaughan. Expecting to meet a pair of deep, sad, beautiful eyes, lifted to his own; to behold a fair forehead shadowed by soft, shining curls; judge of Clarence's surprise when the opened door revealed to him a small being of no shape in particular; a very black head of hair, surmounted by an ugly maid's cap; and a pair of unearthly, staring blue glasses.
Madeline had chosen to appear "in character" at this interview. She intended to keep her own personality out of sight, and she felt that she needed the aid and concealment that her disguise would afford. She would give Claire's schemes no vantage ground.
So Madeline Payne was carefully hidden away under the wig and pigment and padding; and Céline Leroque courteseyed demurely as she held the door open to admit him, and said:
"Good evening, Monsieur le Docteur; you perceive I am here before you."
"Rather, I don't perceive it. You are here before me in a double sense of the word; yes. And I suppose you call yourself—"