"Say, Maud, are you here?" Jake said.
She tried to answer him, but could not. She knew that the moment she spoke, she would betray herself.
He came forward into the room. She saw his square figure against the light outside the door.
"Capper has gone back," he said. "He wouldn't stay any longer."
That startled her to a tragic activity. She sprang up in wild dismay. "Dr. Capper--gone! I--I thought he was spending the night!"
"I wanted him to," said Jake. "He wouldn't. He said I was to wish you good-night, and thank you for your hospitality."
Maud stood still, her hands at her throat. For the moment she was too electrified for speech. Then anger--bitter, furious resentment--came to her aid.
"So you brought me here by--a trick!" she said, her voice pitched very low but full of a quivering abhorrence that must have reached him where he stood.
"I don't know what you mean," said Jake. His voice was curt and cool; he spoke without the smallest evidence of indignation or constraint. "I never asked you to come, nor did I ask Capper to bring you. I presume you were a free agent so far as that goes. But since you are here there is not much point in running away again. It's here that you belong."
The finality of his speech came upon her with stunning force. It had the dead level of absolute assurance. As he made it, he came forward into the room, and she heard the rattle of his matchbox as he drew it forth.