'There's a woman on the doorstep—and a policeman!' cried Peggy to her companions; she had run to the window and put her head out.
'Now, Tommy, which has come for you and which for me?' asked Childwick.
'Stay where you are,' said Peggy. 'I'll go down and see.'
In spite of Tommy's protests—Childwick made none—she insisted on going alone. The fact is that she had two or three friends who were habitually in very low water; it was just possible that this might be one who was stranded altogether.
The men waited; they heard voices below, they heard the hall-door shut, there were steps on the stairs, the red-baize door swung on its hinges.
'She's brought her up,' said Childwick. 'Where are our hats, Tommy?'
'Wait a bit, we may be wanted,' suggested Tommy.
'That's why I proposed to go,' murmured Childwick.
'Rot, old fellow,' was Tommy's reception of this affected discretion. He went to the window and craned his neck out. 'The policeman's gone,' he announced with some relief. 'That's all right anyhow!'
'All right? Our only protection gone! Mark you, Tommy, we're in luck if we don't have our pictures in a philanthropic publication over this.'