Edward Phillips Oppenheim

“ Wrayson turned back to the inn, but before he had taken half a dozen paces he stopped short. He had happened to glance towards the upper windows of the small hotel, and he caught a sudden vision of a man's face—a familiar face, transformed, rigid, yet with staring eyes following the departing carriage. Wrayson himself was conscious of a quick shock of surprise, followed by a sense of apprehension. What could there possibly have been in the appearance of Louise to have brought a look like that into the face of his fellow-guest? ”

“ One does not wish to gossip, but there is much here to wonder at!"
"What is she like, this Madame de Melbain?" Duncan asked.
"No one has seen her, monsieur," the landlord answered. "She arrived in a close carriage, since when she has not passed the lodge gates. She has her own servants who wait upon her. Without doubt she is a person of some importance! Possibly, though, she is eccentric. They say that every entrance to the château is guarded, and that a cordon of men are always watching."
Wrayson laughed. ”

“ And yet one cannot help feeling a little interested. I noticed myself that the lodge gates of the château were rather strictly guarded."
"Very likely," the other answered. "Women of fashion who suffer from nerves take strange fancies nowadays. This Madame de Melbain is probably one of these."
Wrayson nodded.
"Very likely," he admitted. "What are you going to do with yourself all day?" ”