"Very well," he answered. "It shall be as you say." He did not wait for her to ring, nor did he attempt any sort of farewell. He simply took up his hat, and before she could realise his intention he had left the room. Lucille sat quite still, looking into the fire.
"If only," she murmured, "if only this were the end."
Duson entered the sitting-room, noiseless as ever, with pale, passionless face, the absolute prototype of the perfect French servant, to whom any expression of vigorous life seems to savour of presumption. He carried a small silver salver, on which reposed a card.
"The gentleman is in the ante-room, sir," he announced.
Mr. Sabin took up the card and studied it.
"Do I know this gentleman, Duson?" Mr. Sabin asked.
"Not to my knowledge, sir," the man answered.
"You must show him in," Mr. Sabin said, with a sigh. "In this country one must never be rude to a lord."
Duson obeyed. Lord Robert Foulkes was a small young man, very carefully groomed, nondescript in appearance. He smiled pleasantly at Mr. Sabin and drew off his gloves.
"How do you do, Mr. Sabin?" he said. "Don't remember me, I daresay. Met you once or twice last time you were in London. I wish I could say that I was glad to see you here again."
Mr. Sabin's forehead lost its wrinkle. He knew where he was now.
"Sit down, Lord Robert," he begged. "I do not remember you, it is true, but I am getting an old man. My memory sometimes plays me strange tricks."
The young man looked at Mr. Sabin and laughed softly. Indeed, Mr. Sabin had very little the appearance of an old man. He was leaning with both hands clasped upon his stick, his face alert, his eyes bright and searching.
"You carry your years well, Mr. Sabin. Yet while we are on the subject, do you know that London is the unhealthiest city in the world?"
"I am always remarkably well here," Mr. Sabin said drily.
"London has changed since your last visit," Lord Robert said, with a gentle smile. "Believe me if I say--as your sincere well-wisher--that there is something in the air at present positively unwholesome to you. I am not sure that unwholesome is not too weak a word."
"Is this official?" Mr. Sabin asked quietly.
The young man fingered the gold chain which disappeared in his trousers pocket.
