"Take my place there," she whispered. "Look down the drive. Tell me whether you can see any one watching the house?"
He went down on his knees at the place she indicated and peered through the parted curtain. For a few seconds he could see nothing; then, as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he discerned two motionless figures standing on the left-hand side of the drive, partly concealed by a tall laurel bush.
"I believe," he declared hoarsely, "that there are two men standing there."
"Tell me, are they moving?" she demanded.
"They seem to be simply watching the house," he replied.
She was silent. He could hear her breath come and go.
"They still do not move?" she asked, after a few seconds.
He shook his head, and she turned away, listening to some footsteps in the hall.
"Remember," she whispered, "I am standing where I can turn on the light in a moment. If any one comes, you are here to see my South American curios. This is my own sitting-room. You understand?"
"I understand," he assented. "Whatever you tell me to say, I will say."