Hugh took out his pencil and wrote a brief note. Then, in a low voice,
he said:

"Here, porter! I want you to do something for me."

"Yes, sir!"

"I'll make it worth your while, but I won't hare you attending to any
one else--understand?"

The porter demonstrated with a nod his perfect comprehension of what was
required, and there followed from his employer a minute description
of the lady.

"Young, slight, tall, fair, black hat and veil, and--"

"In mourning, sir, undoubtedly?"

"Mourning! No, of course not. Cannot a lady wear black without being in
mourning?" Hugh expostulated sharply.

"Certainly, sir; but generally--"

Whatever costume the worldly-wise porter would have approved as _en
régle_ for a lady, under conditions to his thinking so obviously
indiscreet, the description was forestalled by the ingenuous young man,
who, dissimilarly apprehensive and oblivious to the innuendo, was heard
to grumble: