"Yes, sir," was the reply.
"Oh! good," said the caller. "Just tell her I'm here." And he proceeded to remove his coat and to hang it up in the great flagged hall with the air of one used to the house.
The Manor was a spacious, well-furnished place, full of good pictures and much old oak furniture.
The servant passed along the corridor, and entering the drawing-room, announced: "Mr. Benton is here, ma'am."
"Oh! Mr. Benton! Show him in," cried his mistress enthusiastically. "Show him in at once!"
Next moment the caller entered the fine, old-fashioned room, where a well-preserved, fair-haired woman of about forty was taking her tea alone and petting her Pekinese.
"Well, Charles? So you've discovered me here, eh?" she exclaimed, jumping up and taking his hand.
"Yes, Molly. And you seem to have very comfortable quarters," laughed Benton as he threw himself unceremoniously into a chintz-covered armchair.
"They are, I assure you."
"And I suppose you're quite a great lady in these parts--eh?--now that you live at Shapley Manor. Where's Louise?"
"She went up to town this morning. She won't be back till after dinner. She's with her old school-fellow--that girl Bertha Trench."
"Good. Then we can have a chat. I've several things to consult you about and ask your opinion."
"Have some tea first," urged his good-looking hostess, pouring him some into a Crown Derby cup.
"Well," he commenced. "I think you've done quite well to take this place, as you've done, for three years. You are now safely out of the way. The Paris Surete are making very diligent inquiries, but the Surrey Constabulary will never identify you with the lady of the Rue Racine. So you are quite safe here."
"Are you sure of that, Charles?" she asked, fixing her big grey eyes upon him.
"Certain. It was the wisest course to get back here to England, although you had to take a very round-about journey."
"Yes. I got to Switzerland, then to Italy, and from Genoa took an Anchor Line steamer across to New York. After that I came over to Liverpool, and in the meantime I had become Mrs. Bond. Louise, of course, thought we were travelling for pleasure. I had to explain my change of name by telling her that I did not wish my divorced husband to know that I was back in England."
"And the girl believed it, of course," he laughed.
"Of course. She believes anything I tell her," said the clever, unscrupulous woman for whom the Paris police were in active search, whose real name was Molly Maxwell, and whose amazing career was well known to the French police.