From outside came the swish of silken drapery. It was Mrs. May returning. She seemed herself again by this time.
"The danger is past," she said, "if danger you choose to call it. The next time we meet we shall laugh together over this comedy. I assure you it is a comedy. And now I am going to ask you to leave me."
The woman was playing a part and playing it extremely well. With less innate knowledge, Geoffrey would have been thoroughly deceived. As it was, he affected to make light of the matter. He held out his hand with a smile.
"I am glad of that," he said. "You must let me come again, when, perhaps, you may be disposed to allow me to assist you. Good-night and thank you for one of the pleasantest evenings of my life."
The door closed behind Geoffrey, and he stumbled along in the darkness until his eyes became accustomed to the gloom. Out in the road some one crept up to him and laid a hand on his arm. Like a flash Geoffrey had him by the throat.
"Speak, or I will kill you," he whispered. "Who are you?"
"Come with me at once," came the hoarse reply. "And release that grip of my throat. I am Sergius Tchigorsky."