"Will you tell me in which direction that number is, sir?" she inquired, awed by the man's authority as she held up the address for his inspection.
The officer's bulging eyes surveyed her from head to foot. That "sir" had tickled his vanity, and he approved of her.
"One thousand and one?" he said. "Why, that's Alexander Hendrie's house. Right here behind you—er—miss. That's Mr. Hendrie's house."
Phyllis thanked him warmly. Then she went back to her suit case, picked it up, and made for the house with a rapidly beating heart. It was almost as if everything had been made especially easy for her, and, in spite of her growing nervousness, she was very thankful.
The house was well back from the road. It was approached by a short, unenclosed carriage sweep, lined on each side by smooth turf, dotted with shrubs and young trees. The air of wealth was conveyed in the splendidly kept condition of everything rather than any ostentatious display. The house itself was a modern production of decorative architecture, built of massive, beautifully cut gray stone. The entrance door was beneath a glass and wrought-iron shelter, which stretched out across the drive and was supported on massive wrought-iron columns of exquisite design.
It was not without many heart quakings that Phyllis ascended the white marble steps and pressed the great button of the electric bell. Nor were these lessened when the door was opened with magical abruptness, and she found herself gazing up at the liveried footman in wonder and dismay.
The man's cold survey of her was disheartening. Plainly as looks could speak, he regarded her visit as an impertinent intrusion, while he waited for her to speak.
It was a critical moment, and Phyllis knew it. The situation demanded all her courage. Assuming a decision which quite belied her real feelings, she endeavored to overawe the man, quite forgetful of the strange hat and stranger costume she was arrayed in; to say nothing of the deplorable suit case.
"I want to see Mrs. Hendrie," she demanded shortly.
The man's reply was slow in coming. He devoured her with eyes which plainly conveyed a definite and contemptuous refusal.