From a little horse-hair-covered sofa set before this window my visitor rose to greet me, and with my hand upon the knob of the door I paused.  For certainly this was a stranger who stood before me!

She was tall and very slender, attired with great elegance, and in her whole appearance there was something markedly foreign—­or perhaps I should say exotic.  She wore a small hat which I judged to be Parisian and expensive, and from its brim depended a figured veil which effectually disguised her features, without being able or perhaps without being intended to disguise her brilliant, almond-shaped eyes.  For one moment, a dreadful idea presented itself to me; but the most appalling memory which I retained of those other witch-eyes around which so much mystery clustered was their brilliant greenness.  The eyes of my visitor, although unusually large and brilliant, were totally different in shape, being long and narrow, and apparently of a wonderful amber color.

When she spoke her voice was very cultured and soft; yet I started and I know I must have been staring very hard and very rudely.  There was a faint huskiness in its tone, a caress in its accents, which irresistibly reminded me of the scene in my study which had resulted, in the loss of the image of Bast.

I think I have already indicated that I am one of those who arrive at a decision somewhat laboriously; and now convinced that my memory of the luminous eyes was threatening to become an obsession, so that I looked to find them blazing out at me from the face of every stranger whom I encountered, I forced myself to believe that a chance resemblance in my visitor’s voice to the voice of that other visitor had tricked me.

“Mr. Addison,” she said, “I’m afraid you will think this call somewhat unconventional, but”—­she paused almost imperceptibly—­“I am staying at Friar’s Park, and Lady Coverly has heard from Dr. Greefe that you wish to see the house.”

“Really,” I murmured, “it was good of you to take so much trouble, but—­”

“It was no trouble at all,” she declared.  “I had occasion to come this way and Lady Coverly asked me to call and tell you that whilst she is not well enough to receive visitors, you are quite welcome to inspect the older parts of the house.”

“I am much indebted,” I said.

Having so spoken, I ceased and was aware of a kind of embarrassment.  For whilst I was naturally anxious to avoid unpleasant suspicions regarding a lady who apparently had gone out of her way to perform an act of courtesy, yet I could not place this elegant figure in the household of Friar’s Park as that household had been depicted by my old gossip of “The Threshers.”

I mentally determined there and then to question Martin, and if possible Hawkins, upon the point, directly an opportunity arose, and the former immediately my visitor had departed.  But she seemed to be in no hurry to depart.

“You have never visited this neighborhood before?” she continued, in the soft, caressing voice which persistently awakened memories of that evening in my cottage.