Tommy was paralysed. Peggy rose and retreated into a corner of the room. A chair was in her way; she caught hold of it and held it in front of her, seeming to make it a barricade. She was very upset still, but traitorous laughter played about the corners of her mouth—it reconnoitred, seeking to make its position good. Aggressive satisfaction breathed from Trix Trevalla as she waited for the opening of the door.
Airey put his head inside.
'Mrs. Welling told me I should find you,' he began; for Trix's was the first figure that he saw.
'You find us all, old fellow,' interrupted Tommy Trent, with malicious and bitter jocularity.
At this information Airey's face did not glow with pleasure. Friends are friends, but sometimes their appropriate place is elsewhere. He carried it off well though, exclaiming:
'What, you? And Peggy too?'
Trix had no idea of allowing wandering or diversions.
'I was just coming round to Danes Inn, Mr. Newton,' she said, in a voice resolute but trembling.
'To Danes Inn?' The listeners detected a thrill of pleasure in his voice.
'Yes, to see you. I want your help. I want you to tell me something. Peggy here——' she pointed a scornful finger at Peggy entrenched in the corner behind her chair, and looking as though she thought that personal violence was not out of the possible range of events—'Peggy here has been kind—what she calls kind, I suppose—to me. She's been to Mr. Fricker and paid him a lot of money to get me out of Glowing Stars—to persuade him to let me out of them. You told me there was some hope of them. You were wrong. There was none. But Peggy went and bought me out. Mr. Chance has written and told me so.'