He knocked at the door and waited. The woman at the lodge had told him
that it was very unlikely he would be able to see Madame Durski at this
hour of the day, but he had walked on to the house notwithstanding.
It was already nearly four o'clock in the afternoon; but at that hour
Paulina had rarely left her own apartments.
Victor Carrington knew this quite as well as the woman at the lodge,
but he had business to do with another person as well as Paulina
Durski. That other person was the widow's humble companion.
The door was opened by Carlo Toas, Paulina's confidential courier and
butler. This man looked very suspiciously at the visitor.
"My mistress receives no one at this hour," he said.
"I am aware that she does not usually see visitors so early," replied
Carrington; "but as I come on particular business, and as I come a long
way to see her, she will perhaps make an exception in my favour."
He produced his card-case as he spoke, and handed the man a card, on
which he had written the following words in pencil:
"_Pray see me, dear madame. I come on really important business, which
will bear no delay. If you cannot see me till your dinner-hour, I will
wait._"
The Spaniard ushered Victor into one of the reception-rooms, which
looked cold and chill in the winter daylight. Except the grand piano,
there was no trace of feminine occupation in the room.
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