She reached it soon after half-past two. She found its gloomy nineteenth-century facade, black with the smuts of ninety years, a little daunting, and mounted its broad steps in some trepidation. But she rang the bell hard and knocked firmly. Lucas, the butler of the duke, himself opened the door. At the sight of Pollyooly he started back; for the moment he thought that his lost young mistress stood before him. Pollyooly stepped across the threshold, and said firmly: "I want to see the Duke of Osterley, please." The words showed Lucas his mistake; he perceived that before him stood not his mistress, but that young red Deeping who had once made a manifestly genuine offer to bite him; and he hesitated. "It's very important. Please tell him that Miss Bride wants to see him," said Pollyooly. "Um--er--come this way, miss. I'll see if his grace will see you," said Lucas in a doubtful voice. He would have liked to refuse to let her into the house; but he was doubtful about her social standing. Therefore he took her to the nearest drawing-room, said that he would inform his grace, and betook himself to his master in the smoking-room, wearing a perturbed air, for the duke had as complete a vocabulary as any nobleman in England, and he might easily take it ill that this formidable red Deeping had not been refused admission to his house. "If you please, your Grace, there's a young lady--leastways a little girl of the name of Bride--wants to see your Grace," said Lucas. "It's the little girl you brought home as turned out not to be Lady Marion." "What the deuce did you let her in for?" said the duke on the instant; and he frowned at him. "She said it was very important, your Grace," said Lucas in an unhappy tone. The duke continued to frown, considering: Pollyooly might have brought word of his missing daughter; and he would by no means let slip an opportunity of getting information about her. On the other hand he might be about to be called upon to pay more for his kidnapping exploit. He had, however, just lunched ducally; and he was in a vainglorious mood, ready to face anything female. At last he said bitterly: "I seem to have every jackass in London in my service. Bring her here." Lucas gloomily announced the readiness of the duke to receive her to Pollyooly. She followed him eagerly and came into the smoking-room with a brave air, though she was not feeling as brave as she looked. The duke stood on the hearthrug and glowered at her. She did not hesitate; she gazed at his unamiable face with limpid eyes and said tranquilly: "How do you do, your Grace?" The duke grunted; then grew articulate, and said: "What do you want?" Pollyooly sat down deliberately in one of the big easy chairs facing him, and answered: "If you please, your Grace, I came to see you about an orphan."