'George,' his master directed, 'if any one rings, I am engaged. See that I am not disturbed on any pretext.'
'Very good, Mr. Kessner!
The man closed the door with wonderful softness. Even his footsteps, as he retreated into the bedroom, were inaudible. Kessner's elbow was propped against the mantelpiece, his head supported in his thin, yellow-stained fingers. He looked down at her.
'If you do not trust me,' she persisted, 'how can I be of help to you?'
'I might put you to the test,' he said slowly.
There was nothing distinctly threatening in his tone, and yet all at once she was afraid. The thought of that black Hercules loitering outside, something in the downward droop of the eyes of this man all the time edging a little nearer to her, seemed suddenly to become terrifying. Nevertheless, she refused to flinch.
'I do not like riddles,' she declared. 'Perhaps you had better think over more definitely what you want to say to me, before Friday night, or send a note up to my room.'
'There is no necessity,' he replied. 'What I have to say to you is already quite clear in my mind.'
He moved still nearer, stood over the couch by her side. Then the outside bell rang. He paused to listen. Her heart gave a little jump as a familiar voice asked for Mr. Kessner.
'It is Mr. Lavendale!' she exclaimed under her breath. 'Don't let him find me here!'