“She is here, sir,” said the valet on opening the door. I jumped up. There she was, standing on the door-mat in the narrow passage! Yet I had been out of the room twice, once to speak to Sir Cyril Smart, and once to answer an inquiry from my cousin Sullivan, and I had not seen her.

She was still in the bridal costume of Elsa, and she seemed to be waiting for permission to enter. I went outside to her, closing the door.

“Sir Cyril would not let me come,” she said. “But I have escaped him. I was just wondering if I dared peep in. How is he?”

“He is getting on splendidly,” I answered. “And he wants to have a little chat with you.”

“And may he?”