There was a door on the right of the porch. Scott turned towards it.
"I suppose we can go in there?" he said to the man who had admitted them.
"The gun-room, sir? Yes, if you wish, sir. Shall I bring tea?"
"No," Scott said quietly. "Find Sir Eustace Studley if you can, and ask him to join us there! Come along, Dinah!"
His hand touched her arm. She entered the little room as one seeking refuge. It led into a conservatory, and thence to the garden. The apartment itself was given up entirely to weapons or instruments of sport. Guns, fishing-rods, hunting-stocks, golf-clubs, tennis-rackets, were stored in various racks and stands. A smell of stale cigar-smoke pervaded it. Colonel de Vigne was wont to retire hither at night in preference to the less cosy and intimate smoking-room.
But there was no one here now, and Scott laid hat and riding-whip upon the table and drew forward a chair for his companion.
She looked at him and tried to thank him, but she was voiceless. Her pale lips moved without sound.
Scott's eyes were very kindly. "Don't be so frightened, child!" he said; and then, a sudden thought striking him, "Look here! You go and wait in the conservatory and let me speak to him first! Yes, that will be the best way. Come!"
His hand touched her again. She turned as one compelled. But as he opened the glass door, she found her voice.
"Oh, I ought not to—to let you face him alone. I must be brave. I must."