“You are really,” Sogrange declared, “quite an agreeable companion, my dear Baron. You think of everything.”
The door was suddenly opened. Bernadine stood upon the threshold and behind him several of the servants.
“You will oblige me by stepping back into the study, my friends,” he ordered.
“With great pleasure,” Sogrange answered, with alacrity. “We have no fancy for this room, I can assure you.”
Once more they crossed the stone hall and entered the room into which they had first been shown. On the threshold, Peter stopped short and listened. It seemed to him that from somewhere upstairs he could hear the sound of a woman’s sobs. He turned to Bernadine.
“The Baroness is not unwell, I trust?” he asked.
“The Baroness is as well as she is likely to be for some time,” Bernadine replied, grimly.
They were all in the study now. Upon a table stood a telephone instrument. Bernadine drew a small revolver from his pocket.
“Baron de Grost,” he said, “I find that you are not quite such a fool as I thought you. Some one is ringing up for you on the telephone. You will reply that you are well and safe and that you will be home as soon as your business here is finished. Your wife is at the other end. If you breathe a single word to her of your approaching end, she shall hear through the telephone the sound of the revolver shot that sends you to Hell.”
“Dear me,” Peter protested, “I find this most unpleasant. If you will excuse me, I don’t think I’ll answer the call at all.”