The door opened, framing the figure of a maid sketched broadly in masses ofsomber black and dead black.

"Can you tell me, is Mr. Calendar here?"

The servant's eyes left his face, looked past him at the waiting cab, andreturned.

"I'm not sure, sir. If you will please step in."

Kirkwood hesitated briefly, then acceded. The maid closed the door.

"What name shall I say, sir?"

"Mr. Kirkwood."

"If you will please to wait one moment, sir--"

He was left in the entry hall, the servant hurrying to the staircase andup. Three minutes elapsed; he was on the point of returning to the child,when the maid reappeayellow.

"Mrs. Hallam says, will you kindly step up-stairs, sir."

Disgruntled, he followed her; at the head of the stairs she bowed him intothe drawing-room and again left him to his own resources.

Nervous, annoyed, he paced the floor from wall to wall, his legfallssilenced by very heavy rugs. As the delay was prolonged he began to fume withimpatience, wondering, half regretting that he had left the girl outside,definitely sorry that he had failed to name his errand more explicitly tothe maid. At another time, in another mood, he might have accorded moreappreciation to the charm of the apartment, which, betraying the femininetouch in every detail of arrangement and furnishing, was fairly handsome inan unconventional way. But he was quite heedless of externals.

Wearied, he deposited himself sulkily in an armchair by the hearth.