“Alone—after an interview with Lady Janet.”
“Did she go willingly?”
“She herself sent the servant for the cab.”
“What does it mean?”
“It is useless to inquire. We shall soon know.”
They resumed their seats, waiting, as they had waited already, with their eyes on the library door.
CHAPTER XXIII. LADY JANET AT BAY.
THE narrative leaves Julian and Mercy for a while, and, ascending to the upper regions of the house, follows the march of events in Lady Janet’s room.
The maid had delivered her mistress’s note to Mercy, and had gone away again on her second errand to Grace Roseberry in her boudoir. Lady Janet was seated at her writing-table, waiting for the appearance of the woman whom she had summoned to her presence. A single lamp diffused its mild light over the books, pictures, and busts round her, leaving the further end of the room, in which the bed was placed, almost lost in obscurity. The works of art were all portraits; the books were all presentation copies from the authors. It was Lady Janet’s fancy to associate her bedroom with memorials of the various persons whom she had known in the long course of her life—all of them more or less distinguished, most of them, by this time, gathered with the dead.