CHAPTER III
The stable clock at Friars' Moat had just struck the quarter after four, as a slender woman, dressed in white, walked up the avenue toward the house. She was alone, and walked slowly, glancing about her with interest, as if she wanted to impress every feature of the place upon her mind. Five minutes after the striking of the clock, she arrived at the door, but even then she did not ring at once. She looked at the old, old stone house, and down at the water-lily leaves in the moat which still ran along one side, though elsewhere it had been filled up generations ago.
An electric bell seemed singularly unsuited to the heavy oak door, hinged and studded with iron, but it was there, though a mere inconspicuous button, and the visitor touched it after a moment's hesitation.
A young footman in a quiet livery answered her ring, and she asked for Lady Hereward.
"Her ladyship went out to lunch, with Sir Ian, and has not come back yet," said the servant. He had never seen the face of the caller before, but it was interesting and striking. It was the face of a woman whom most people would like to know, and the footman thought her a personage, though she had come on foot
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