"And a good many owe their wives to their success in life," I
retorted cynically. At which he stared at me again.

It was then that the real complexity of the situation began to
develop. Some one had rung the bell and been admitted to the
library and a maid came to the door of the den. When she saw us
she stopped uncertainly. Even then it struck me that she looked
odd, and she was not in uniform. However, I was not informed at
that time about bachelor establishments, and the first thing she
said, when she had asked to speak to me in the hall, knocked her
and her clothes clear out of my head. Evidently she knew me.

"Miss McNair," she said in a low tone. "There is a lady in the
drawing room, a veiled person, and she is asking for Mr. Wilson."

"Can you not find him?" I asked. "He is in the house, probably in
the studio."

The girl hesitated.

"Excuse me, miss, but Miss Caruthers--"

Then I saw the situation.

"Never mind," I said. "Close the door into the drawing room, and
I will tell Mr. Wilson."

But as the girl turned toward the doorway, the person in question
appeared in it, and raised her veil. I was perfectly paralyzed.