“You cannot believe,” he exclaimed almost angrily, “that I came here to take your money?”

“Did you come here believing that I was going to take yours?” she asked.

Peter Phipps, who knew men through and through and had also a profound acquaintance with women of a certain class, was face to face for once with a type of which he knew little.  The woman who could refuse his millions, offered in such a manner, for him could have no real existence.  Somewhere or other he must have blundered, he told himself.  Or perhaps she was clever; she was leading him on to more definite things?

“I came here, Lady Dredlinton,” he said, “prepared to offer, if you would accept it, everything I possess in the world in return for a little kindness.”

Phipps had not heard the knock at the door, though he saw the change in Josephine’s face.  She rose to her feet with a transfiguring smile.

“How lucky I am,” she exclaimed, “to have a witness to such a wonderful offer!”

Wingate paused for a moment in his passage across the room.  His outstretched hand fell to his side.  The expression of eagerness with which he had approached Josephine disappeared from his face.  He confronted Phipps, who had also risen to his feet, as a right-living man should confront his enemy.  There was a second or two of tense silence, broken by Phipps, who was the first to recover himself.

“Welcome to London, Mr. Wingate,” he said.  “I was hoping to see you this morning in the City.  This is perhaps a more fortunate meeting.”

“You two know each other?” Josephine murmured.

“We are old acquaintances,” Wingate replied.

“And business rivals,” Phipps put in cheerfully.  “A certain wholesome rivalry, Lady Dredlinton, is good for us all.  In whatever camp I find myself, I generally find Mr. Wingate in the opposite one.  I have an idea, in fact,” he went on, “that we are on the point of recommencing our friendly rivalry.”

Josephine, who had been standing up for the last few moments, touched the bell.

“You will keep your rivalry for the City, I trust,” she said.

It was just then that Phipps surprised a little glance flashed from Josephine to Wingate.  He seemed suddenly to increase in size, to become more menacing, portentous.  There was thunder upon his forehead.  He seemed on the point of passionate speech.  At that moment the butler opened the door and Josephine held out her hand.

“It was very kind of you to call, Mr. Phipps.  I will think over all that you have said, and discuss it—­with my husband.”

Phipps had regained command of himself.  He bowed low over her hand but could not keep the malice from his tone.

“You could not have a better counsellor,” he declared.

Neither Josephine nor Wingate spoke a word until the door was finally closed after the unwelcome caller and they heard his heavy tread retreating down the hall.  Then she sank back upon the couch and motioned him to sit by her side.