The man she saw was well-knit and rather handsome, not much over thirty, with clean-shaven face, drooping eyelids, and a hard-set lower jaw.

She had a suspicion that it might be Dalton, but was not sure, never having seen him but once, when he was much younger.
"Who do you want to see ?" she asked at last, in a firm voice.
Dalton wheeled sharply, and took her in with one comprehensive glance.
He had always prided himself on never having been outwitted or taken unawares, and that Lady Barbara could lock herself in her room, and that this woman could creep up behind him unobserved, rather nettled him.
"I don't know that it is any of your business, my good woman," he answered, his insolence increasing as he noticed how mild and inoffensive she appeared to be; "but if it makes any difference to you, I will tell you that I am waiting for my wife." "Where is she ?" Martha's voice was clear and incisive, with a ring of determination through it that, for the moment, disconcerted him.
Dalton pointed to the bedroom door.
Martha stepped across the room and tried the knob.

"Open the door, Lady Barbara.

It's Martha.

Who is this man ?" The bolt shot back and Barbara's frightened face peered out.