eld, and stopped as if arrested by a sudden
thought. "Who is it?" he asked.

A grin so brief that it might have been a mere twitch of the features
passed over the boy's face.

"Wouldn't give no name, sir. But she's a nob of some sort," he said. "Got
a shiny satin dress on under her cloak."

Field's eyes went for a moment to his littered papers. Then he picked up
a newspaper from a chair and threw it over them.

"Show her in!" he said briefly.

He got up with the words, and stood with his back to the window, watching
the half-open door.

There came a slight rustle in the passage outside. The small boy
reappeared and threw the door wide with a flourish. A woman in a dark
cloak and hat with a thick veil over her face entered.

The door closed behind her. Field stood motionless. She advanced with
slight hesitation.

"I hope you will forgive me," she said, "for intruding upon you."

Her voice was rich and deep. It held a throb of nervousness. Field came
deliberately forward.

"I presume I can be of use to you," he said.

His tone was dry. There was scant encouragement about him as he drew
forward a chair.

She hesitated momentarily before accepting it, but finally sat down with
a gesture that seemed to indicate physical weakness of some sort.

"Yes, I want your help," she said.

Field said nothing. His face was the face of the trained man of law. It
expressed naught beyond a steady, impersonal attention.

He drew up another chair and seated himself facing her.

She looked at him through her veil for several seconds in silence.
Finally, with manifest effort, she spoke.

"It was so good of you to admit me--especially not knowing who I was. You
recognise me now, of course? I am Lady Violet Calcott."

"I should recognise you more easily," he said in his emotionless voice,
"if you would be good enough to put up your veil."

His tone was perfectly quiet and courteous, yet she made a rapid movement
to comply, as if he had definitely required it of her. She threw back the
obscuring veil and showed him the face of one of the most beautiful women
in London.

There was an instant's pause before he said.

"Yes, I recognise you, of course. And--you wanted to consult me?"

"No!" She leaned forward in her chair with white hands clasped. "I wanted
to beg you to tell me--why you have refused to undertake Burleigh
Wentworth's defence!"

She spoke with a breathless intensity. Her wonderful eyes were lifted to
his-