Her nerves had been singing like tensed wires under the strain of that short moment of silence, and she could have screamed aloud with joy at the relief his voice brought. It was his voice—Steve’s voice—never a doubt of that. She steadied her own and answered, “Only Ned Gunliffe. May I come in?”
“No,” he answered sharply. “Just give me a second, and I’ll be with you.”
A minute later the door opened, and Steve stepped out and closed it behind him. Ess moved from behind Ned and would have run forward, but he put a hand on her arm.
“Ask him who is in the hut there,” he said quietly.
Ess stopped abruptly. She had forgotten everything else for the moment in the joy of seeing Steve there. But Ned had shown no sign, made no sound of surprise or disappointment.
“What is it, Ess? What are you doing here? Is anything wrong?” asked Steve.
“I came to—Ned said——” she faltered, suddenly burning with shame.
“I brought her,” Ned Gunliffe cut in, “so that she could ask you who is the woman you have in there? Or, if you will let Miss Lincoln satisfy herself that there is no woman, I will apologise to her and to you, and we can go.”
He spoke with something of a sneer, and Steve stooped and peered at him in the dim light.
“So,” he said. “And if I refuse to satisfy you—and I fancy it is you and not her who needs satisfying—what then?”