“She is at home, sir. I will take in your card, sir, if——”
“Take this note to her, instead, and say that I would like to see her immediately,” Nick directed, interrupting.
“Walk in, sir.”
Nick had waited only a few moments in the reception hall, when the butler returned and conducted him to the library, where he found Lady Deland awaiting him—a stately, beautiful woman still in the twenties, whose pale cheeks and apprehensive eyes denoted with what misgivings she had read Senator Barclay’s note introducing the famous detective.
“Close the door when you go out,” she directed, with a glance at the butler.
“Yes, your ladyship.”
Hawley bowed himself from the room.
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Carter, and long have known you by name,” said Lady Deland, then shaking hands with the detective. “Tell me—what is the meaning of this visit? Has anything happened to Sir Edward Deland, or to——”
She hesitated, turning deathly white when Nick, removing his disguise, said gravely:
“You have anticipated what has happened, Lady Deland.”