“Certainly—­when mademoiselle allows me.  Ah, here comes the Duchess!” said Delafield, in another voice.

Mademoiselle Le Breton, who had moved a few steps away from the stair-head with Sir Wilfrid Bury, turned hastily.  A slight, small woman, delicately fair and sparkling with diamonds, was coming up the stairs alone.

“My dear,” said the new-comer, holding out her hands eagerly to Mademoiselle Le Breton, “I felt I must just run in and have a look at you.  But Freddie says that I’ve got to meet him at that tiresome Foreign Office!  So I can only stay ten minutes.  How are you?”—­then, in a lower voice, almost a whisper, which, however, reached Sir Wilfrid Bury’s ears—­“worried to death?”

Mademoiselle Le Breton raised eyes and shoulders for a moment, then, smiling, put her finger to her lip.

“You’re coming to me to-morrow afternoon?” said the Duchess, in the same half-whisper.

“I don’t think I can get away.”

“Nonsense!  My dear, you must have some air and exercise!  Jacob, will you see she comes?”

“Oh, I’m no good,” said that young man, turning away.  “Duchess, you remember Sir Wilfrid Bury?”

“She would be an unnatural goddaughter if she didn’t,” said that gentleman, smiling.  “She may be your cousin, but I knew her before you did.”

The young Duchess turned with a start.

“Sir Wilfrid!  A sight for sair een.  When did you get back?”

She put her slim hands into both of his, and showered upon him all proper surprise and the greetings due to her father’s oldest friend.  Voice, gesture, words—­all were equally amiable, well trained, and perfunctory—­Sir Wilfrid was well aware of it.  He was possessed of a fine, straw-colored mustache, and long eyelashes of the same color.  Both eyelashes and mustache made a screen behind which, as was well known, their owner observed the world to remarkably good purpose.  He perceived the difference at once when the Duchess, having done her social and family duty, left him to return to Mademoiselle Le Breton.

“It was such a bore you couldn’t come this afternoon!  I wanted you to see the babe dance—­she’s too great a duck!  And that Canadian girl came to sing.  The voice is magnificent—­but she has some tiresome tricks!—­and I didn’t know what to say to her.  As to the other music on the 16th—­I say, can’t we find a corner somewhere?” And the Duchess looked round the beautiful drawing-room, which she and her companions had just entered, with a dissatisfied air.

“Lady Henry, you’ll remember, doesn’t like corners,” said Mademoiselle Le Breton, smiling.  Her tone, delicately free and allusive, once more drew Sir Wilfrid’s curious eyes to her, and he caught also the impatient gesture with which the Duchess received the remark.

“Ah, that’s all right!” said Mademoiselle Le Breton, suddenly, turning round to himself.  “Here is Mr. Montresor—­going on, too, I suppose, to the Foreign Office.  Now there’ll be some chance of getting at Lady Henry.”