"I was so sorry to miss you that evening because of a stupid play.
Come around as early as you can to-morrow morning. I shall expect
you.

"Sincerely yours,

"CARROLL BISHOP."


Orde glanced at the clock, which pointed to seven. He breakfasted,
read the morning paper, finally started leisurely in the direction
of West Ninth Street. He walked slowly, so as to consume more time,
then at University Place was seized with a panic, and hurried
rapidly to his destination. The door was answered by the same man
who had opened the night before, but now, in some indefinable way,
his calm, while flawless externally, seemed to have lifted to a mere
surface, as though he might hastily have assumed his coat. To
Orde's inquiry he stated with great brevity that Miss Bishop was not
yet visible, and prepared to close the door.

"You are mistaken," said Orde, with equal brevity, and stepped
inside. "I have an engagement with Miss Bishop. Tell her Mr. Orde
is here."

The man departed in some doubt, leaving Orde standing in the gloomy
hall. That young man, however, quite cheerfully parted the heavy
curtains leading into a parlour, and sat down in a spindle-legged
chair. At his entrance, a maid disappeared out another door,
carrying with her the implements of dusting and brushing.