He dropped into an arm-chair, clapping both his hands upon his knees. Rene stood at the farther end of the library, in the shadow, watching him.
“She's coming here to-morrow, boy—coming here. Gad! you dog! You'll fall in love with her the moment you see her—sure to, sure to! I did, and I'm three times your age!”
“Who is this lady, sir?” asked Rene, very quietly.
“God knows, boy! Everybody's mad to meet her, but nobody knows who she is. But wait till you see her. Lady Dascot seems to be acquainted with her, but you will see when they come to-morrow—see for yourself. Gad, boy!... what did you say?”
“I did not speak.”
“Thought you did. Have a whisky-and-soda?”
“No, thank you, sir—good night.”
“Good night, boy!” cried the Colonel. “Good night. Don't forget to be in to-morrow afternoon or you'll miss meeting the loveliest woman in London, and the most brilliant.”
“What is her name?”
“Eh? She calls herself Madame de Medici. She's a mystery, but what a splendid creature!”