He opened it to find Eglantine, a pretty, dark, slim girl of twenty-two, standing on the doormat, carrying a small kitbag and wearing an air of deepest mystery.
"You're Mademoiselle Eglantine, I suppose ?" he said.
"Ye--es.

And you are Monsieur Ruffin," she whispered with an air of utter secrecy.

"Ze duchess she 'av been 'ere ?" "She has.

Come on in.

Pollyooly is making preparations to go with you," said the Honourable John Ruffin briskly.