Unless some unforeseen event took place she had saved her own life. But all the same there was danger. The police would probably get René, but also they might get her, which was a much more serious matter. She softly opened the catch of the back drawing-room window so that she could reach the garden.
René had opened the tin with the point of his knife, and was eating sardines and biscuits in a wolfish way. The Chianti he drank from the bottle.
"That is like a breath of old times," he growled, as he finished the flask. "Let me light a cigarette and then we'll talk again. I am going to try you high, dear lady. I am going to test your story."
The old gleam was coming back to his eyes. Leona drew a deep breath. She had half expected this at the time; there was always the chance that this man knew a great deal more than she imagined. But help must be near her by this time, and she could always prevaricate.
"Pooh, I am not afraid," she said, with easy contempt. "Say on, say on."
"Ah, I am coming to that fast enough," René growled. "You say that you gave my brother four hundred pounds in gold----"
He paused as he saw Leona listening eagerly, not to himself, but to something outside. She was acting perfectly. There was just a suggestion of alarm in her manner that gave the situation.
"Didn't you hear something?" she whispered.
René shook his head. He could hear nothing at all. He said so impatiently. It seemed to him that his companion was playing with him.
"You or I, or both of us, are followed," she said. "Come this way. Peep out of the window without lifting the blind. What do you see?"