But the maid came on in silence, and so incredible was the silence that Loder moved onward, too.  He came within a yard of her, and still she did not speak; then, as he passed her, she drew back respectfully against the wall.

The strain, so astonishingly short, had been immense, but with its slackening came a strong reaction.  The expected humiliation seethed suddenly to a desire to dare fate.  Pausing quickly, he turned and called the woman back.

The spot where he had halted was vividly bright, the ceiling light being directly above his head; and as she came towards him he raised his face deliberately and-waited.

She looked at him without surprise or interest.  “Yes, sir?” she said.

“Is your mistress in?” he asked.  He could think of no other question, but it served his purpose as a test of his voice.

Still the woman showed no surprise.  “She’s not in sir,” she answered.  “But she’s expected in half an hour.”

“In half an hour?  All right!  That’s all I wanted.”  With a movement of decision Loder walked back to the stair-head, turned to the right, and opened the door of Chilcote’s rooms.

The door opened on a short, wide passage; on one side stood the study, on the other the bed, bath, and dressing-rooms.  With a blind sense of knowledge and unfamiliarity, bred of much description on Chilcote’s part, he put his hand on the study door and, still exalted by the omen of his first success, turned the handle.

Inside the room there was firelight and lamplight and a studious air of peace.  The realization of this and a slow incredulity at Chilcote’s voluntary renunciation were his first impressions; then his attention was needed for more imminent things.

As he entered, the new secretary was returning a volume to its place on the book-shelves.  At sight of him, he pushed it hastily into position and turned round.

“I was making a few notes on the political position of Khorasan,” he said, glancing with slight apprehensiveness at the other’s face.  He was a small, shy man, with few social attainments but an extraordinary amount of learning—­the antithesis of the alert Blessington, whom he had replaced.

Loder bore his scrutiny without flinching.  Indeed, it struck him suddenly that there was a fund of interest, almost of excitement, in the encountering of each new pair of eyes.  At the thought he moved forward to the desk.

“Thank you, Greening,” he said.  “A very useful bit of work.”

The secretary glanced up, slightly puzzled.  His endurance had been severely taxed in the fourteen days that he had filled his new post.

“I’m glad you think so, sir,” he said, hesitatingly.  “You rather pooh-poohed the matter this morning, if you remember.”

Loder was taking off his coat, but stopped in the operation.