"Pardon me, sir, but are you not somewhat brusque and uncourteous in your demeanor?" Vane demanded, with some hauteur. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
"I want to meet the woman whom report says you are to marry or have married. I want to meet her here and now, in your presence," was the quick, passionate, quivering response.
Lord Cameron shuddered and grew white to his lips at this imperative demand, and wondered if the man was mad.
"That is impossible," he said, in a husky voice. Then he added, in a conciliatory tone, for something seemed to tell him that the man was in great mental suffering, though he had not a suspicion of its cause: "But pray explain why you make such a request. Who are you sir?"
"My name is Wallace Hamilton Richardson," tersely returned the stranger.
Vane Cameron recoiled as if the man had struck him a blow instead of simply stating his name.
He was so much overcome by the announcement that those observing him feared he was upon the point of fainting, strong man though he was.
"Wallace Richardson—from America?" he whispered, hoarsely.
"Yes."
"I—I thought you were dead! She believed you were dead!" the young lord returned, with ashen lips.