Mr. Delancey sat in his drawing-room conversing with General Delville; whom he was yet allowed to believe he might one day look upon as his son-in-law. The night was dark, and a penetrating, drizzling rain was falling, which rendered the cheerful scene in that vast appartment all the more bright and pleasant.
Suddenly there came a startling ring at the door bell, the sound of which sent the blood in a hot flush to Della's temples, as she sat there quietly between her mother and the General, with her thoughts wandering where they chose, though she seemed to be listening to the conversation.
A servant entered, saying that a gentleman desired to see Mr. Delancey.
"Tell him I am engaged."
"I did so, sir; but he insisted upon seeing you."
"Perhaps some one bringing you news concerning the robbery," suggested Madame D.
"Ah, perhaps so. Show him into the library and tell him I'll be with him in a moment."
Excusing himself to his guest, the merchant sought the library. A tall man, wrapped in a heavy cloak, his hat still on and drawn over his brows, was walking impatiently back and forth across the floor. Mr. Delancey turned his cold eyes upon him earnestly for a moment and withdrew them nervously.
"Mr. Wilkins, I believe?"