Borrowdean rose to greet his friend. Mannering, not knowing who his
hostess might be, and feeling absolutely no curiosity concerning her,
confined his attention wholly to the man whom he had come to seek.

"I did not wish to disturb you here, Borrowdean," he said, quickly, "but
if your call is over, could you come away for a few minutes? I have a
matter to discuss with you."

Borrowdean smiled slightly, and laid his hand upon the other's shoulder.

"By all means, Mannering," he answered. "But since you have discovered
our little secret, don't you think that you had better speak to our
hostess?"

Mannering was puzzled, but his eyes followed Borrowdean's slight gesture.
Berenice, who at the sound of his voice had suddenly abandoned her
conversation and risen to her feet, was within a few feet of him. A
sudden light swept into Mannering's face.

"You!" he exclaimed softly.

Her hands went out towards him. Borrowdean, with an almost imperceptible
movement, checked his advance.

"So you see we are found out, after all, Duchess," he said, turning to
her. "You have known Mrs. Handsell, Mannering, let me present you now to
her other self. Duchess, you see that our recluse has come to his senses
at last. I must really introduce you formally: Mr. Mannering--the Duchess
of Lenchester."