It was plain that he came a little late already; that the tale had got there ahead of him.
"Where is your mistress ?" said he.
"I...I will tell her you are here, Sir Oliver," the man replied in a voice that faltered; and he passed through a doorway on the right.

Sir Oliver stood a moment tapping his boots with his whip, his face pale, a deep line between his brows.

Then the man reappeared, closing the door after him.
"Mistress Rosamund bids you depart, sir.

She will not see you." A moment Sir Oliver scanned the servant's face--or appeared to scan it, for it is doubtful if he saw the fellow at all.

Then for only answer he strode forward towards the door from which the man had issued.