The maid explained that all was ready. Jones the butler had been sent with a note to the City, and the housemaid was sitting with the kitchen-maid, who was recovering from the flu.
"I told them I'd answer the bell. And I'll keep an eye that no one comes down before he's gone. There he is!"
For the bell had rung, and the maid hastened to the hall door to answer it.
A tall man entered—coughing.
"Beastly night, Nannie!" he said, as soon as the cough would let him. "Don't suit my style. Well?—how are you? Had the flu, like everybody else?"
"Not yet, Mr. Roger—though it's been going through the house. Shall I take your coat?"
"You'd better not. I'm too shabby underneath."
"Sir Richard's in the country, Mr. Roger."
"Oh, so her ladyship's alone? Well, that's how I generally find her, isn't it?"
But Nannie—with her eye on the stairs—was not going to allow him any lingering in the hall. She led him quickly to the drawing-room, opened it, and closed it behind him. Then she herself retreated into a small smoking-den at the farther end of the hall, and sat there, without a light, with the door open—watching.