of thing before."

"He must have been shaky before," she said, "but I daresay
Halderschrodt...."

"Oh, it's hardly worth while bothering that personage about such a sum,"
I interrupted. Halderschrodt, in those days, was a name that suggested
no dealings in any sum less than a million.

"My dear Etchingham," my aunt interrupted in a shocked tone, "it is
quite worth his while to oblige us...."

"I didn't know," I said.

That afternoon we drove to Halderschrodt's private office, a
sumptuous--that is the _mot juste_--suite of rooms on the first floor of
the house next to the Duc de Mersch's _Sans Souci_. I sat on a
plush-bottomed gilded chair, whilst my pseudo-sister transacted her
business in an adjoining room--a room exactly corresponding with that
within which de Mersch had lurked whilst the lady was warning me against
him. A clerk came after awhile, carried me off into an enclosure, where
my bill was discounted by another, and then reconducted me to my plush
chair. I did not occupy it, as it happened. A meagre, very tall Alsatian
was holding the door open for the exit of my sister. He said nothing at
all, but stood slightly inclined as she passed him. I caught a glimpse
of a red, long face, very tired eyes, and hair of almost startling
whiteness--the white hair of a comparatively young man, without any
lustre of any sort--a dead white, like that of snow. I remember that
white hair with a feeling of horror, whilst I have almost forgotten the
features of the great Baron de Halderschrodt.