Almost immediately afterwards, Zoe's maid entered. There was a gentleman to see her. He would not give his card.
"Show him into the next room," said Zoe, full of excitement, "and if Mr. Oppner comes back, tell him I am engaged."
She entered the cosy reception-room, feeling that she was about to be admitted behind the scenes, and, woman-like, delightfully curious. A moment later, her visitor arrived.
"I have kept my promise, Miss Oppner!"
She turned, to greet him—and a little, quick cry escaped her.
For this was not Detective-Inspector Pepys who stood, smiling, in the doorway!
It was a man who was, or who seemed to be, taller than he; a slim man, having but one thing in common with the detective: his black morning-coat fitted him as perfectly as the dress-coat had fitted the inspector. An irreproachably attired man is a greater rarity than most people realise; and Zoe Oppner wondered why, even in that moment of amazement, she noted this fact.
Her visitor was singularly handsome. She knew, instantly, that she had never seen one so handsome before. He was of a puzzling type, wholly unlike any European she had met, though no darker of complexion than many Americans. With his waving black hair, extraordinarily perfect features, and the light of conscious power in his large eyes, he awoke something within her that was half memory—yet not wholly so.
She was vaguely afraid, but strongly attracted towards this mysterious stranger.
"But," she said, staring the while as one fascinated, "you—are not Inspector Pepys!"