"The best thing you can do," she returned. "Lucie! Lucie! Where are the
bells in this house! What privations one suffers for staying away from
home! Oh, yes, here it is," and she caught the atom of enamel and gold
dangling at the head of her bed, and rang it without ceasing until the
maid, who regarded her mistress with an admiration quite untinctured by
affection, appeared silently at the doorway.

In an astonishingly short space of time, she was dressed and downstairs,
presenting her usual sleek and polished appearance. Wickham was alone in
the drawing-room, and a suggestion that they should have another game of
piquet quickly drove him to the writing of some purely imaginary
business letters.

The coast was thus clear, but Riatt was still absent.

Nancy's methods were nothing if not direct. She rang the bell and when
the butler appeared she said:

"Where is Mr. Riatt?"

"In his room, madam."

"Dressing?"

"No, madam, he is dressed. Resting, I should say."

Nancy nodded her head once. "One moment," she said; and going to the
writing table she sat down and wrote quickly: