“A man came to the back-door not long since, and asked whether you were at home.”
“A man came to the back-door?” repeated Carpentaria sharply, every nerve suddenly on the strain. “Who was it? What did you say to him?”
“At first I thought it was one of the night-staff, and then the man’s face made me suspicious; I imagined it might be a thief—you know what a state I am in, Carlos—and so I told him you had just gone to bed, and I shut the door in his face. I didn’t want him to think there were only women in the house. But, of course, it couldn’t have been a burglar—here——”
“That is the wisest thing you have done this day, Juliette,” Carpentaria remarked; and then he questioned her as to the appearance of the mysterious inquirer.
“Are you going to leave me?” cried Juliette, when Carpentaria picked up his hat, which had fallen from a chair to the floor.
“Yes,” he said; “you must try to rest.”
And then they were both startled by a strange noise on the window-pane. They listened. The noise was repeated.
“Is it rain?” asked Juliette.
“No,” said Carpentaria, “it’s gravel.”
He went out on to the balcony. A form was discernible in the avenue below.