"A—lady?" he repeated, halting short on the stairs.
"Young an' refined, allowin' for a automobile veil."
"She—she asked for me?" he repeated, astonished.
"Yes, sir. She wanted to see your rooms. But havin' no orders, Captain Selwyn—although I must say she was that polite and ladylike and," added Mrs. Greeve irrelevantly, "a art rocker come for you, too, and another for Mr. Lansing, which I placed in your respective settin'-rooms."
"Oh," said Selwyn, laughing in relief, "it's all right, Mrs. Greeve. The lady who came is my sister, Mrs. Gerard; and whenever she comes you are to admit her whether or not I am here."
"She said she might come again," nodded Mrs. Greeve as he mounted the stairs; "am I to show her up any time she comes?"
"Certainly—thank you," he called back—"and Mr. Gerard, too, if he calls."
He looked into Boots's room as he passed; that gentleman, in bedroom costume of peculiar exotic gorgeousness, sat stuffing a pipe with shag, and poring over a mass of papers pertaining to the Westchester Air Line's property and prospective developments.
"Come in, Phil," he called out; "and look at the dinky chair somebody sent me!" But Selwyn shook his head.
"Come into my rooms when you're ready," he said, and closed the door again, smiling and turning away toward his own quarters.