Long afterwards Gertrude could recall the moment when she first saw Frank Jermyn under their roof; could remember distinctly—though all at the time seemed chaos—the sudden sensation of security that came over her at the sight of the kind, eager young face, the brilliant, steadfast eyes; at the sound of the manly, cheery voice.
There were no explanations; no apologies.
"There seems to be a shocking row going on," he said, lifting his hat; "I only hope that it does not concern any of you ladies."
In a few hurried words Gertrude told him what she knew of the state of affairs. Meanwhile the noise had in some degree subsided.
"Great heavens!" cried Frank; "there may be murder going on at this instant." And in less time than it takes to tell he had sprung past her, and was hammering with all his might at the closed door.
The girls followed timidly, and were in time to see the door fly open in response to the well-directed blows, and Mrs. Maryon herself come forward, pale but calm. Within the room all was now dark and silent.
Mrs. Maryon and the new comer exchanged a few hurried words, and the latter turned to the girls, who clung together a few paces off.
"There is no cause for alarm," he said. "Pray do not wait here. I will explain everything in a few minutes, if I may."
"Now please, Miss Lorimer, go back upstairs; there's nothing to be frightened at," chimed in Mrs. Maryon, with some asperity.
A few minutes afterwards Frank Jermyn knocked at the door of the Lorimers' sitting-room, and on being admitted, found himself well within the fire of four questioning pairs of feminine eyes.