Julie Le Breton came forward. The hats were removed, and the tall, stooping form of Montresor advanced. "Lady Henry is _so_ sorry," said Julie, in a soft, lowered voice. "But I am sure she would like me to give you her message and to tell you how she is. She would not like her old friends to be alarmed. Would you come in for a moment? There is a fire in the library. Mr. Delafield, don't you think that would be best?... Will you tell Hutton not to let in _anybody_ else?" She looked at him uncertainly, as though appealing to him, as a relation of Lady Henry's, to take the lead. "By all means," said that young man, after perhaps a moment's hesitation, and throwing off his coat. "Only _please_ make no noise!" said Miss Le Breton, turning to the group. "Lady Henry might be disturbed." Every one came in, as it were, on tiptoe. In each face a sense of the humor of the situation fought with the consciousness of its dangers. As soon as Montresor saw the little Duchess by the fire, he threw up his hands in relief. "I breathe again," he said, greeting her with effusion. "Duchess, where thou goest, I may go. But I feel like a boy robbing a hen-roost. Let me introduce my friend, General Fergus. Take us both, pray, under your protection!" "On the contrary," said the Duchess, as she returned General Fergus's bow, "you are both so magnificent that no one would dare to protect you." For they were both in uniform, and the General was resplendent with stars and medals. "We have been dining with royalty." said Montresor. "We want some relaxation." He put on his eye-glasses, looked round the room, and gently rubbed his hands. "How very agreeable this is! What a charming room! I never saw it before. What are we doing here? Is it a party? Why shouldn't it be? Meredith, have you introduced M. du Bartas to the Duchess? Ah, I see--" For Julie Le Breton was already conversing with the distinguished Frenchman wearing the rosette of the Legion of Honor in his button-hole, who had followed Dr. Meredith into the room. As Montresor spoke, however, she came forward, and in a French which was a joy to the ear, she presented M. du Bartas, a tall, well-built Norman with a fair mustache, first to the Duchess and then to Lord Lackington and Jacob. "The director of the French Foreign Office," said Montresor, in an aside to the Duchess. "He hates us like poison. But if you haven't already asked him to dinner--I warned you last week he was coming--pray do it at once!"