By return it came, a very brief and curt note but well-expressed, written in the third person. “Miss Buckley has to acknowledge the receipt of two letters from Mr. Sellars, asking for an interview on a private matter. She has no knowledge of the writer, and before granting his request, would like to know the nature of the business on which he is desirous of seeing her.”
Obviously not an ill-educated person to whom the use of the third person would have presented numerous pitfalls. Sellars did not relish the tone of her letter at all, and did not quite know how to proceed. He could probably gain admittance by pretending he was engaged in some professional enterprise in which he would be glad of her co-operation. But he would have to abandon that attitude when he got there, and most certainly arouse her resentment by admitting that it was a trick to enable him to steal a march upon her. He would then, in all probability, be unceremoniously bundled out.
Miss Buckley dated her letter from No. 5 Elvenden Mansions, Kew Bridge, evidently a block of flats. He thought the best way would be to take direct action by calling there without preliminary announcement, trusting to luck to find the lady at home and willing to admit him. He arrived there about twelve o’clock on the morning of the day after that on which he had received her somewhat brusque letter.
He thought this would be a judicious hour. Professional ladies he had always understood were not early risers, they preferred the day to be well-aired before they got up. In the afternoon they probably rested to prepare themselves for the arduous duties of the evening. He found the place quite easily—a very extensive block of flats of respectable appearance, the rentals of which he thought would be neither cheap nor expensive, just suitable to persons of moderate means.
Miss Buckley opened the door herself, it was very likely she did not keep a resident servant. She was a comely, good-looking woman of an unrefined type, looking much younger than her years, which Sellars, piecing together the information he had gathered at Brinkstone, put in the region of fifty. She had a very brilliant complexion, obviously the result of very careful art. She was a trifle inclined to stoutness, but not by any means unbecomingly so, and she had a very pleasant expression. Perhaps she was only brusque when she took a pen in her hand.
As she surveyed him, taking in every detail of his immaculate get up and elegant appearance, a twinkle appeared in her rather bold, blue eyes, and she smiled broadly.
“I don’t think you need tell me who you are,” she said in a jolly, rather loud voice. “I’ll lay five to one to anybody who likes to take me on that you’re Mr. Sellars.”
This was quite a breezy reception, better than the young man had hoped for. Miss Buckley was evidently not a mincing person nor inclined to finnicking speech.
Sellars made his best bow, removing his hat with a grace peculiarly his own. “I compliment you on your penetration, Miss Buckley, you have guessed at once. I ran up here on the chance of finding you in, as I am leaving London very shortly, and I didn’t want to waste time in needless correspondence. Now that I am here, I hope you won’t be so cruel as to turn me away.”
The music-hall artist looked at him not unkindly, he was a very personable young fellow, and possessed charming manners.