FOR a moment Horace stood thunderstruck, looking in blank astonishment at Lady Janet. His first words, as soon as he had recovered himself, were addressed to Julian. “Is this a joke?” he asked, sternly. “If it is, I for one don’t see the humor of it.”

Julian pointed to the closely written pages of the consul’s letter. “A man writes in earnest,” he said, “when he writes at such length as this. The woman seriously gave the name of Grace Roseberry, and when she left Mannheim she traveled to England for the express purpose of presenting herself to Lady Janet Roy.” He turned to his aunt. “You saw me start,” he went on, “when you first mentioned Miss Roseberry’s name in my hearing. Now you know why.” He addressed himself once more to Horace. “You heard me say that you, as Miss Roseberry’s future husband, had an interest in being present at my interview with Lady Janet. Now you know why.”

“The woman is plainly mad,” said Lady Janet. “But it is certainly a startling form of madness when one first hears of it. Of course we must keep the matter, for the present at least, a secret from Grace.”

“There can be no doubt,” Horace agreed, “that Grace must be kept in the dark, in her present state of health. The servants had better be warned beforehand, in case of this adventuress or madwoman, whichever she may be, attempting to make her way into the house.”

“It shall be done immediately,” said Lady Janet. “What surprises me Julian (ring the bell, if you please), is that you should describe yourself in your letter as feeling an interest in this person.”

Julian answered — without ringing the bell.

“I am more interested than ever,” he said, “now I find that Miss Roseberry herself is your guest at Mablethorpe House.”

“You were always perverse, Julian, as a child, in your likings and dislikings,” Lady Janet rejoined. “Why don’t you ring the bell?”

“For one good reason, my dear aunt. I don’t wish to hear you tell your servants to close the door on this friendless creature.”

Lady Janet cast a look at her nephew which plainly expressed that she thought he had taken a liberty with her.

“You don’t expect me to see the woman?” she asked, in a tone of cold surprise.

“I hope you will not refuse to see her,” Julian answered, quietly. “I was out when she called. I must hear what she has to say — and I should infinitely prefer hearing it in your presence. When I got your reply to my letter, permitting me to present her to you, I wrote to her immediately, appointing a meeting here.”

Lady Janet lifted her bright black eyes in mute expostulation to the carved Cupids and wreaths on the dining-room ceiling.

“When am I to have the honor of the lady’s visit?” she inquired, with ironical resignation.

“To-day,” answered her nephew, with impenetrable patience.

“At what hour?”

Julian composedly consulted his watch. “She is ten minutes after her time,” he said, and put his watch back in his pocket again.

At the same moment the servant appeared, and advanced to Julian, carrying a visiting card on his little silver tray.

“A lady to see you, sir.”

Julian took the card, and, bowing, handed it to his aunt.

“Here she is,” he said, just as quietly as ever.

Lady Janet looked at the card, and tossed it indignantly back to her nephew. “Miss Roseberry!” she exclaimed. “Printed — actually printed on her card! Julian, even MY patience has its limits. I refuse to see her!”

The servant was still waiting — not like a human being who took an interest in the proceedings, but (as became a perfectly bred footman) like an article of furniture artfully constructed to come and go at the word of command. Julian gave the word of command, addressing the admirably constructed automaton by the name of “James.”

“Where is the lady now?” he asked.

“In the breakfast-room, sir.”

“Leave her there, if you please, and wait outside within hearing of the bell.”

The legs of the furniture-footman acted, and took him noiselessly out of the room. Julian turned to his aunt.

“F............