‘A person to see you, sir,’ said a feminine voice, not without asperity.
‘A person to see me! Oh! ah! er!... Show him into the office. I’ll be down directly.’
He descended to the third-floor, and, instead of the Somerset House acquaintance whom he had expected, he found the very last person that by all the laws of chance ought to have been in his office--he found Mrs. Bridget.
Mrs. Bridget turned round and faced him as he went into the little paper-strewn room. She was dressed in black alpaca, with a curiously-shaped flat black bonnet. Her hands, which were decently covered with black gloves, she held folded in front of her.
Richard said nothing at first. He was too astounded, and--shall we say?--pleased. He scented what the reporters call ‘further revelations’ of an interesting nature.
‘Good-avenin’,’ said Bridget; ‘and can ye see a lady privately?’
‘Certainly,’ said Richard, ‘I can see you privately; but,’ he added, with a mischievous smile, ‘I’m afraid our interview won’t amount to much unless you’re more communicative than you were this morning.’
‘Bless and save ye, sir! ’tis not meself that wants ye--’tis her.’
‘The misthress sent me up to find out whisht whether ye could be seen.’
‘See her? Naturally I will see her. But--but--how did you discover my address?’
By this time they were hurrying down the multitudinous steps to the ground-floor.
‘Sure, we called at the Williamson Company, and they said you’d left and they didn’t know your address. And then we came out, and who should we see but Mr. Puddephatt leading a pony. ’Twas the Virgin’s own miracle! “Hullo!” he says, lifting his hat.
The recital was never finished, for at that moment they reached the front-door. In the roadway stood the Décauville motor with lights gleaming. By the side of the Décauville stood Teresa Craig enveloped in a gray mackintosh.
Richard’s face showed his intense pleasure at the most unlooked-for encounter.
‘Miss Craig,’ he said eagerly, ‘I hope you are in no trouble. Can I be of any assistance?’
‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she replied with bitterness, and then looked about--the little street was deserted--‘I have come to seek an explanation from you. If you are an honourable man you will give it. And I have come, much against my inclination, to ask a favour. Bridget, take care of the motor.’