The butler came as near to a whistle as any butler on duty ever came. What is more, in his agitation at this new and unexpected crisis, he quite forgot the presence of Giles Ilingsworth, vice-president of the largest trust company in the world.
"There'll be the devil to pay if the missus sees her! Did she ask for——"
"She came to see the governor," interrupted the footman, shaking his head; "and what's more, she says she's going to wait until he comes."
The butler knitted his brows.
"You were a fool to let her in! Is that her car outside?"
"Don't you know it when you see it?"
The mention of the car forced the butler's thoughts back to Ilingsworth. He started toward the financier of the Tri-State Company with abundant apology upon his lips.
"I beg your pardon, sir ..." he began, and then stopped. For as he passed the door of the reception-room he was able to peer into it, and by some servant's trick to sweep every corner of it with his glance. It was a room void of hangings, almost bare in its rich simplicity—one of those triumphs of interior decoration. The butler's face was pale as he retraced his steps and once more faced his fellow-servant.
"There's not a soul in there—see for yourself."