Peter nodded indifferently. "But my ship sails."
"Very good. But you must not leave this house until sunrise."
"When the sailors come from the Madrusa I shall walk out of here——"
"And into the arms of death, Peter!"
Peter lighted a cigarette and puffed thoughtfully in silence. Romola's gaze was upon his lips, as though the next words he would utter meant to her the difference between life and death.
And what he might have said was forestalled by a heavy battering at the outer door. These deep vibrations seemed on the sudden to stir Peggy out of her sleep. She sat upright, digging fists into tired eyes.
"Gracious! Where's everybody?"
The hammering ceased, and a high-pitched crash followed an instant of hush.
"The men from the Madrusa!" cried Anthony. He dragged the bench away; flung the door open with a grand gesture.
And into the room strode a blandly smiling Chinese, magnificent in gold and blue and red. He was flanked by three large and watchful coolies, armed with clubs.