There was silence for a moment; then the old gentleman turned round, and in an instant was on his feet, quiet, but with an air of bristling about his thrust-out chin and his tense attitude.
Mr. Vincent paused, looking from one to the other.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Laura,” he said courteously. “Your man told me to wait here; I think he did not know you had come in.”
“Well—er—this gentleman …” began Lady Laura. “Why, do you know Mr. Vincent?” she asked suddenly, startled by the expression in the old gentleman’s face.
“I used to know Mr. Vincent,” he said shortly.
“You have the advantage of me,” smiled the medium, coming forward to the fire.
“My name is Cathcart, sir.”
The other started, almost imperceptibly.
“Ah! yes,” he said quietly. “We did meet a few times, I remember.”
Lady Laura was conscious of distinct relief at the interruption: it seemed to her a providential escape from a troublesome decision.
“I think there is nothing more to be said, Mr. Cathcart. … No, don’t go, Mr. Vincent. We had finished our talk.”
“Lady Laura,” said the old gentleman with a rather determined air, “I beg of you to give me ten minutes more private conversation.”