The big house was silent as the tomb. On the desk burned a shaded lamp, the rest of the room was in darkness. It was rather cold, the fires had not been lighted yet. The house with its thick walls of brick was almost always chilly unless the furnaces were going. She drew her black wrap closer round her shoulders, and bent over her notes.
Then she heard the door-bell faintly sounding. After a moment there was a knock and Anna came in, the middle-aged woman who waited on the table and the door.
"Mrs. Carlin—there's somebody here that wants to see you. He asked for Judge Carlin, and says he'll wait to see him."
"Wait? But he may not be home for days! Who is it?" asked Mary impatiently.
"An old—an old gentleman. He didn't give his name. He says he'd like to see you," said Anna neutrally.
"Where is he? What does he want?"
"He didn't say. He's in the hall."
Mary rose and went out, stately in the black mantle that wrapped her from head to foot, its collar of black fur framing her face. The stranger stood, holding his hat in his hand, contemplating the bronze statue of Mercury. He was a small grey-haired man, in a shabby but neat dark suit. Some client of Laurence's, she thought. She spoke to him.
"Good evening. Did you want to see Judge Carlin?"
He turned and looked at her. His thin smooth-shaven face showed a rather shy, pleasant smile.