"It's very curious," Blanche Adney repeated, with a musing air and her eyes on Lord Mellifont. Then, rousing herself, she added: "Go and look in his room."
"In Lord Mellifont's?"
She turned to me quickly. "That would be a way!"
"A way to what?"
"To find out—to find out!" She spoke gayly and excitedly, but suddenly checked herself. "We're talking nonsense," she said.
"We're mixing things up, but I'm struck with your idea. Get Lady Mellifont to let you."
"Oh, she has looked!" Mrs. Adney murmured, with the oddest dramatic expression. Then, after a movement of her beautiful uplifted hand, as if to brush away a fantastic vision, she exclaimed, imperiously: "Bring me the scene—bring me the scene!"
"I go for it," I answered; "but don't tell me I can't write a play."
She left me, but my errand was arrested by the approach of a lady who had produced a birthday-book—we had been threatened
