At this she started from her place, caught back his hand.
“No, no! He can’t have waked yet. He is worn out—tired—imagine how tired! Go on ringing. Knock again.”
Her face showed a horror that did not know itself.
“I think I had better break the door,” said Geoffrey, gently; putting her back.
She dropped to helpless submission.
The glass panel crashed in under the sharp blow and putting his hand through the aperture Geoffrey drew the bolt.
Inside was complete darkness. A touch at the electric button near the door and the little hall, its closed doors, its chairs, table, jar of laurel-leaves, flashed upon them.
Geoffrey still kept Felicia behind him.
“Let me go first,” he said.
“You! First! No, no, I must see him first.”