CHAPTER VI.
Dredlinton House, before which Wingate presented himself punctually at eight o'clock that evening, had a sombre, almost a deserted appearance.
The great bell which he pealed seemed to ring through empty spaces.

His footsteps echoed strangely in the lofty white stone hall as he followed the butler into a small anteroom, from which, however, he was rescued a few minutes later by Josephine's maid.
"Her ladyship will be glad if you will come to the boudoir," she invited.
"Dinner is to be served there.

If monsieur will follow me." Wingate passed up the famous staircase, around which was a little semicircle of closed doors, and was ushered into a small apartment on the first floor, through the shielded windows of which he caught glimpses of green trees.

The room was like a little fairy chamber, decorated in white and the faintest shade of mauve.

In the center, a white and gold round table was prepared for the service of dinner, some wonderful cut glass and a little bunch of mauve sweet peas its only decoration.
"Her ladyship will be down in a moment," the maid announced, as she lowered the blind a little more to keep out the last gleam of sunlight.
"If monsieur will be seated." Wingate ignored the silent invitation of the voluptuous little settee with its pile of cushions.