No sooner had she gone than he decided upon his course of action. He was well enough acquainted with the house to know that there was a kitchen door and for this he made. It was locked; the key had been taken away; the windows of scullery and kitchen were heavily barred against burglars. Gordon returned to his potatoes with a sigh. He sighed easily in these hours.
Again the bell rang. Diana heard it as she unbuckled the strap of her revolver belt, and put away the weapon into the hall cupboard. She hesitated a second with her hand on the doorknob, and then the thunderous rat-tat forced her to action. She opened the door. The moment had come. Before she saw the bearded gentleman she knew he was there.
“Three o’clock!” he cried exultantly, and threw out both his hands. “Three o’clock, my bride, my dove, my life!”
“Come in,” said Diana practically.
He would have taken her in his arms, but she held him at a distance.
“The servants,” she said and swiftly eluded his embracing arms.
“In here,” she opened The Study door. “Guiseppi, you must behave—you really must. My uncle——”
“Your uncle!” He gazed at her ecstatically.
She nodded.
“In this house?”