The Thinking Machine handed him a card and was shown into a reception room. The Japanese placed chairs for them with courteous precision and disappeared. After a short pause there was a rustle of silken skirts on the stairs, and a woman — Mrs. Dudley — entered. She was not pretty; she was stunning rather, tall, of superb figure and crowned with a glory of black hair.
“Mr. Van Dusen?” she asked as she glanced at the card.
The Thinking Machine bowed low, albeit awkwardly. Mrs. Dudley sank down on a couch and the two men resumed their seats. There was a little pause; Mrs. Dudley broke the silence at last.
“Well, Mr. Van Dusen, if you —” she began.
“You have not seen a newspaper for several days?” asked The Thinking Machine, abruptly.
“No,” she replied, wonderingly, almost smiling. “Why?”
