She stood aside to allow the strangers to step through into the little
passage.

The Senator turned to Nancy: "Hadn't we better go in and wait?" he asked.
"You must remember that if Mr. Dampier has gone to the hotel they will
certainly tell him we are here."

"No," said Nancy in a low voice, "I would rather not go in--now. My husband
doesn't want me to see the place until he has got it ready for me." Her
lips quivered. "But oh, Mr. Burton, where can Jack be? What can he be
doing?" She put her hands together with a helpless, childish gesture of
distress. Then, making an effort over herself, she said in a more composed
voice, "But I should like you to go in and just see some of Jack's
pictures."

With a smiling face Mere Bideau preceded the Senator down a sunny corridor
into the large studio. It was circular in shape, lighted by a skylight, and
contained a few pieces of fine old furniture, now incongruously allied to a
number of unopened packing-cases and trunks.

Mere Bideau went on talking volubly. She was evidently both fond and proud
of her master. Suddenly she waved her lean arm towards a large, ambitious
painting showing a typical family group of French bourgeois sitting in
an arbour.

"This is what won Mr. Dampier his first Salon medal," she explained. "But
his work has much improved since then, as monsieur can see for himself!"
and she uncovered an unframed easel portrait. It was a really interesting,
distinguished presentment of a man. "Is not this excellent?" exclaimed Mere