From a troubled dream Isoult was now aroused, by a sound which at first wove itself into her dream, and made her imagine herself in the great hall of the Palace of Westminster, where carpenters were busy pulling down the throne.
Knock, knock, knock!
Isoult hardly roused herself enough to recognise what the reality was which answered to her imaginary carpenters, and John Avery slept calmly.
The knocking was repeated more loudly.
“Jack!” said Isoult at last—much too faintly to arouse any but a very light sleeper.
Again came the knocking, and this time a voice with it. “Mr Avery!”
Isoult, thoroughly awake at last, sat up, and succeeded after a minute in bringing John to consciousness. The knocking went on. John sprang up, and threw open the window.
“Who are you, and what do you lack?” he called to the unseen visitant below.
“Let me in, and in haste, for God’s sake!” cried a voice in answer, which both the listeners immediately recognised as Robin Tremayne’s.
“There is somewhat gone wrong,” said John, and hurrying down, he unbarred the door, and let in Robin. Isoult followed as quickly as she could.