Fenwick's Career

by Mrs. Humphry Ward

'Mr. Fenwick! Sir! There's a lady come, sir, and she wishes to speak to you particular.'

An angry movement inside.

'I'm busy. Send her away.'

'I've got her card here, sir,' said Mrs. Flint, dropping her voice. 'It's a queer name, sir—somethin furrin—Madam somethin. She says it's most pertickler. I was to tell you she'd only got home to-day, from abroad.'

A sudden noise inside. The door was opened.

'Where is she? Ask her to come in.'

He himself retreated into the darkness of the studio, clinging, so the charwoman noticed, to the back of a chair, as though for support. Wondering 'what was up,' she clattered back again down the long passage which led from the sitting-room to the studio.

But Eugénie had heard the opening door and came to meet her.

'Is anything wrong?' she asked, anxiously. 'Is Mr. Fenwick ill?'

'Well, you see, ma'am,' said Mrs. Flint, cautiously—'it's the
Sheriff's horficers—though they do it as kind as they can.'