"To neither," he answered. "His time has not come yet. But he has the makings of both." CHAPTER III FIRST BLOOD A footman entered the room a few minutes later, and obedient, without a doubt, to some previously given command, waited behind his mistress' chair until a hand had been played. When it was over, she spoke to him without turning her head. "What is it, Perkins?" she asked. He bent forward respectfully. "There is a young gentleman here, madam, who wishes to see you most particularly. He has no card, but he said that his name would not be known to you." "Tell him that I am engaged," Wilhelmina said. "He must give you his name, and tell you what business he has come upon." "Very good, madam!" the man answered, and withdrew. He was back again before the next hand had been played. Once more he stood waiting in respectful silence. "Well?" his mistress asked. "His name, madam, is Mr. Victor Macheson. He said that he would wait as long as you liked, but he preferred telling you his business himself." "I fancy that I know it," Wilhelmina answered. "You can show him in here." "Is it the young man, I wonder," Lady Peggy remarked, "who came up the avenue as though he were walking on air?" "Doubtless," Wilhelmina answered. "He is some sort of a missionary. I had him shown in here because I thought his coming at all an impertinence, and I want to make him understand it. You will probably find him amusing, Mr. Deyes." Gilbert Deyes shook his head quietly. "There was a time," he murmured, "when the very word missionary was a finger-post to the ridiculous. The comic papers rob us, however, of our elementary sources of humour." They all looked curiously towards the door as he entered, all except Wilhelmina, who was the last to turn her head, and found him hesitating in some embarrassment as to whom to address. He was somewhat above medium height, fair, with a mass of wind-tossed hair, and had the smooth face of a boy. His eyes were his most noticeable feature. They were very bright and very restless. Lady Peggy called them afterwards uncomfortable eyes, and the others, without any explanation, understood what she meant. "I am Miss Thorpe-Hatton," Wilhelmina said calmly. "I am told that you wished to see me." She turned only her head towards him. Her words were cold and unwelcoming. She saw that he was nervous and she had no pity. It was unworthy of her. She knew that. Her eyes questioned him calmly. Sitting there in her light muslin dress, with her deep-brown hair arranged in the Madonna-like fashion, which chanced to be the caprice of the moment, she herself--one of London's most beautiful women--seemed little more than a girl. "I beg your pardon," he began hurriedly. "I understood--I expected----" "Well?"