door and pulled the ancient wire bell. At once he saw signs of life.
The broad door opened, and an English butler, having scrutinized his
face, silently motioned him to be seated. The young man in search of
an adventure selected the far end of the hall seat and dandled his hat.
An English butler was a good beginning. Perhaps three minutes passed,
then the door to the library opened and a young woman came out.
Fitzgerald stood up.

Yes, it was she.

"So you have come?" There was welcome neither in her tone nor face,
nor was there the suggestion of any other sentiment.

"Yes. I am not sure that I gave you my name, Miss Killigrew." He was
secretly confused over this enigmatical reception.

She nodded. She had been certain that, did he come at all, he would
come in the knowledge of who she was.

"I am John Fitzgerald," he said.

She thought for a space. "Are you the Mr. Fitzgerald who wrote the
long article recently on the piracy in the Chinese Seas?"

"Yes," full of wonder.

Interest began to stir her face. "It turns out, then, rather better
than I expected. I can see that you are puzzled. I picked you out of
many yesterday, on impulse, because you had the sang-froid necessary to
carry out your jest to the end."