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Mrs. Van Tromp had preceded them, and stood by the door. As Marian and Macfarren approached, the former gave her a look of unmistakable disdain, which, to Macfarren's horror, was supplemented by a command given in a clear and self-possessed voice:

"Give place, madam."

Mrs. Van Tromp made no reply, but glanced, stupefied for a moment, at Macfarren, who turned pale and then red. A flush rose to her face, and, without replying, she turned half around from Marian and rang the bell again.

The elevator then appeared at the top of the opening, and slowly descended.

Marian's look of scorn and disdain gradually changed to one of genuine alarm. She clutched Macfarren nervously by the arm. Her breath came in short, quick gasps, and as the elevator boy threw the sliding door open she almost shrieked. Mrs. Van Tromp, without noticing either Macfarren or his companion, calm as if nothing out of the common run had occurred, stepped in and began coolly arranging a stray lock of her hair before the mirrors with which the elevator was lined. The boy waited, the rope in his hand, looking impatiently at Macfarren. A lucky idea flew into Macfarren's mind.