Until that moment she had forgotten that A.O. was there with her “suitor,” but one hasty glance was all she had time to give him.  The tall lady in black was rising from her chair, was trailing forward to meet her, was exclaiming in that low full voice which had so impressed the footman.  “Ah!  Joyce Ware’s own little sister!  You’ve probably never heard of me, dear, but I’ve heard of you, often.  And I knew that Joyce would want me to take back some message direct from you, so I just came out to-night for a glimpse.”

Not giving the bewildered Mary opportunity to speak a word, she drew her to a seat beside her and went on rapidly, talking about Joyce and the success she was making in New York, and the many friends she had among famous people.  Mary grew more and more bewildered.  She had not heard that at the studio receptions which Joyce and her associates in the flat gave fortnightly, that all these world-known artists and singers and writers were guests.  It was strange Joyce had never mentioned them.  But Mrs. Redmond named them all so glibly and familiarly, that she could not doubt her.

Almost petrified at seeing Mary walk into the room, A.O. had relapsed into a silence which she could not break.  Jimmy, too, sat tongue-tied, staring in fascination at the strange blonde lady whose fluent, softly modulated speech seemed to exert some kind of hypnotic influence over him.  Even through Mary’s absorbing interest in Mrs. Robertson Redmond’s tales, came the consciousness that A.O. and her friend were sitting there, perfectly dumb, and she stole a curious glance in their direction, wondering why.

“And I have just learned,” said Mrs. Redmond, her gold tooth gleaming through her smile, “overheard it, in fact, quite by accident, that a dear little friend of mine is in the school—­General Walton’s youngest daughter, Elise.  I should be so glad to see her also this evening.  I should have sent up a card for her, too, had I known.  Would it be too much trouble for you to send word to her now?”

A.O. blushed furiously, knowing full well how and where the stranger had overheard that Elise was in the school.  She tried frantically to recall just what it was she had said about her, in her endeavour to amuse Jimmy.  Something extravagant, she knew, or he would not have laughed so horribly loud.

As Mary rose to send the message to Elise the lady dropped her muff.  They both stooped to pick it up.  Mary was first to reach it, and as she gave it back two things met her astonished gaze.  On the little finger of the bare hand held out for the muff shone the agate that none but MacIntyres had owned since the days of Malcolm the Second.  And through the parted lips, where an instant before a gold-crowned tooth had gleamed, shone only perfect little white teeth, with not a glint of dentist’s handiwork about them.  The gold-leaf had slipped off.

Mary gasped, but before the others had a chance to see her amazed face, the lady had risen and linked her arm through hers, and was drawing her towards the door, saying.  “Let me go with you.  I am sure that Elise will not mind receiving such a very old friend as I am up in her room.”