I grasped the knob of the door. It was a brass knob, a cold, brass knob and I heard, cold like brass, her voice:

“Just a minute, may I?”

She went to the telephone, called a Number⁠—I was so upset it escaped me⁠—and spoke loudly: “I shall be waiting for you in the Ancient House. Yes, yes, alone.”

I turned the cold brass knob.

“May I take the aero?”

“Oh yes, certainly, please!”

In the sunshine at the gate the old woman was dozing like a plant. Again I was surprised to see her grown-together mouth open, and to hear her say:

“And your lady, did she remain alone?”

“Alone.”