"May I see Miss Arnott?"
The speaker remained on the other side of the open door, in such a position that, from where she was, he was still invisible.
"What do you want? Who are you?" she demanded.
"My name is Gardner--Edward Gardner. I occupy the dining-room. If you will allow me to come in I will explain the reason of my intrusion. I think you will find my explanation a sufficient one."
She hesitated. The fact that the speaker was a man made her at once distrustful. Since her marriage day she had been developing a continually increasing distaste for everything masculine--seeing in every male creature a possible replica of her husband. The moment, too, was unpropitious. Yet, since the stranger was already partly in the room, she saw no alternative to letting him come a little farther.
"Come in," she repeated.
There entered an undersized, sparely-built man, probably between forty and fifty years of age. He was clean-shaven, nearly bald--what little hair he had was iron grey--and was plainly but neatly dressed in black. He spoke with an air of nervous deprecation, as if conscious that he was taking what might be regarded as a liberty, and was anxious to show cause why it should not be resented.
"As I said just now, I occupy the dining-rooms and my name is Gardner. I am a solicitor's clerk. My employers are Messrs Stacey, Morris & Binns, of Bedford Row. Perhaps you are acquainted with the firm?"
He paused as if for a reply. She was still wondering more and more what the man could possibly be wanting; oppressed by the foreboding, as he mentioned that he was a solicitor's clerk, that he was a harbinger of further trouble. With her law and trouble were synonyms. He went on, his nervousness visibly increasing. He was rendered uneasy by the statuesque immobility of her attitude, by the strange fashion in which she kept her eyes fixed on his face. It was also almost with a sense of shock that he perceived how young she was, and how beautiful.
"It is only within the last few minutes that I learned, from the landlady, that your name was Arnott. It is a somewhat unusual name; and, as my employers have been for some time searching for a person bearing it, I beg that you will allow me to ask you one or two questions. Of course, I understand that my errand will quite probably prove to be a futile one; but, at the same time, let me assure you that any information you may give will only be used for your advantage; and should you, by a strange coincidence, turn out to be a member of the family for whom search has been made, you will benefit by the discovery of the fact. May I ask if, to your knowledge, you ever had a relation named Septimus Arnott?"