“I—I think I don’t quite know.”
Before they reached the house they had to decide upon a plan of action, since both knew that old Mr Bayre would never see his wife if her arrival were first formally announced to him. She must be smuggled in, undoubtedly. It was settled that Bayre should be spokesman, that she should follow him into the house without speaking and without raising her veil, and trust to luck to make her way unmolested.
Bayre expected to have the door shut in his face, so he prepared to make a dash for it and to force a way in if necessary.
It was a long time before anybody answered their summons, so long, indeed, that both began to be afraid that the door was not to be opened at all to them. Presently, however, they heard the sound of heavy steps inside, and the door was opened by Nini Portelet, who looked alarmed when she saw the visitors.
“You must let us in, please,” said Bayre, gently forcing a passage for himself and his companion.
The girl muttered something below her breath, and mentioned Miss Eden’s name.
“Yes, we should like to see her, please,” said he, as they stood a moment in the hall.
“She is with monsieur. He is very ill,” stammered Nini.
And as she spoke she glanced in the direction of the passage that led to the room where Bayre had seen his uncle on his last visit.
He took a bold step.