At the door of a great, high-ceiled room the butler paused, holding back
the soft drapery with austere hand. "What name--for madame?" he said.

The clear eyes of Achilles met his. "My name is Achilles Alexandrakis,"
he said, quietly.

The eyes of the butler fell. He was struggling with this unexpected
morsel in the recesses of his being. Plain Mr. Alexander would have had
small effect upon him; but Achilles Alexandrakis--! He mounted the long
staircase, holding the syllables in his set teeth.

"Alexandrakis?" His mistress turned a little puzzled frown upon him.
"What is he like, Conner?"

The man considered a safe moment. "He's a furriner," he said, addressing
the wall before him with impassive jaw.

A little light crossed her face--not a look of pleasure. "Ask Miss Stone
to come to me--at once," she said.

The man bowed himself out and departed on silken foot.

Miss Stone, gentle and fluttering and fine-grained, appeared a moment
later in the doorway.

"He has come," said the woman, without looking up.

"He--?" Miss Stone's lifted eyebrows sought to place him--