"Do not reproach me now," exclaims Dora; "later on you shall say to me all that you wish, but now moments are precious."
"You are right. Something must be done. Shall I—shall I speak to Mr. Villiers?"
"I hardly know what to advise"—distractedly. "If we give our suspicions publicity, Arthur Dynecourt may even yet find time and opportunity to baffle and disappoint us. Besides which, we may be wrong. He may have had nothing to do with it, and—"
"At that rate, if secrecy is to be our first thought, let you and me go alone in search of Sir Adrian."
"Alone, and at this hour, to that awful room!" exclaims Dora, recoiling from her.
"Yes, at once"—firmly—"without another moment's delay."
"Oh, I can not!" declares Dora, shuddering violently.
"Then I shall go alone!"
As Florence says this, she takes up her candlestick and moves quickly toward the door.
"Stay, I will go," cries Dora, trembling. But a slight interruption occurring at this instant, they are compelled to wait for awhile.