Chase. And then she thought of Richard and his danger, and she seemed
to gather courage from the reflection of her purpose in this house.

Men's voices reached her - a laugh, the harsh cawing of Nick Trenchard.

"A lady!" she heard him cry. "`Od's heart, Tony! Is this a time for
trafficking with doxies?" She crimsoned an instant at the coarse word
and set her teeth, only to pale again the next. The voices were lowered
so that she heard not what was said; one sharp exclamation she
recognized to be in Wilding's voice, but caught not the word he uttered.
There followed a pause, and she stirred uneasily, waiting. Then came
swift steps and jangling spurs across the hall, the door opened suddenly,
and Mr. Wilding, in a scarlet riding-coat, his boots white with dust,
stood bowing to her from the threshold.

"Your servant, Mistress Westmacott," she heard him murmur. "My house
is deeply honoured."

She dropped him a half-curtsy, pale and tongue-tied. He turned to
deliver hat and whip and gloves to Walters, who had followed him, then
closed the door and came forward into the room.

You will forgive that I present myself thus before you," he said, in
apology for his dusty raiment. "But I bethought me you might be in
haste, and Walters tells me that already have you waited nigh upon an
hour. Will you not sit, madam?" And he advanced a chair. His long
white face was set like a mask; but his dark, slanting eyes devoured
her. He guessed the reason of her visit. She who had humbled him,
who had driven him to the very borders of despair, was now to be humbled
and to despair before him. Under the impassive face his soul exulted