Читать книгу A King by Night онлайн

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He looked up as somebody knocked softly on the door, and, so looking, his brows met. He was a particularly good-looking man of fifty-five, slightly grey at the temples. His thin, intellectual face showed none of the tell-tale markings that characterize men of his years, and his grave, deep-set eyes held all the sparkle and fire of youth.

"Come in," he said.

A serving-maid in grey livery came silently into the room.

"There is a young lady to see you, sir."

He took the card from the silver plate she carried, and read the name.

"Miss Gwendda Guildford ... Sacramento," he read, and looked up.

"Will you show the lady in, please?" he asked.

As the door closed on the servant he looked at the card again, and his lips moved as he read the name.

The girl who followed the maid into the room was at first sight a child, with all a child's slimness and natural grace of carriage. She stood, her hand at the door, and he had time to distinguish her face in the semi-gloom. The illusion of extreme youth was not disturbed by the scrutiny, only, as, mechanically, he pressed the governor switch on his desk, and the concealed cornice light came on, filling the room with a strange sunlight glow, he saw that she was older than he had thought. The fine red lips were firmer, and the eyes that met his had a decision and a character which instantly changed his conception of her.