"Does Mrs. Warren live here?" asked Irene, dreading her answer.
"Yes. She is out doing a little shopping at present. Will you come in, my lady?" said Mrs. Hoffman, overwhelmed at the sight of such expensive raiment and at Irene's aristocratic features.
"Thank you, I am anxious to see her," she said, as she entered the house, feeling that her life was about to be shattered, and all her fears realised, before she left it again.
Mrs. Hoffman opened the door of the front room, and said—
"This is Mrs. Warren's sitting-room; I am sure she will not be long."
Irene thanked her and sat down. As she did not seem inclined to talk, Mrs. Hoffman discreetly withdrew, although she would dearly have loved to linger and gossip.
Irene looked round the room curiously. It was neatly furnished, but there was nothing to give her a clue as to the identity of its occupier, nor did she see anything indicative of Warren's frequent presence in the house. She was relieved at this; after all, there might be some mistake, and she could apologise and leave. She would willingly have given another hundred pounds to find out she had been deceived by Felix Hoffman, and allowed him to go scot free into the bargain.
Irene moved about the room looking at sundry books and papers lying about on the table. She saw no signs of work-basket, or anything to indicate that Mrs. Warren was industrious, and again her hopes sank.
Time passed slowly, and she commenced to feel uneasy. She was inclined to leave the house. She rang the bell and Mrs. Hoffman appeared.
"Do you think Mrs. Warren will be much longer?" she asked. "Perhaps I had better call again, but as I came from London I am anxious to see her."