The woman did not stop to close the window, and the next minute Frank heard the bolts drawn softly back, the key turned, and as the door was being opened he stepped forward, but only to stop short on the step, for the housekeeper had not removed the chain.
“What is it, my dear?” she said.
She had not brought a light, and Frank could dimly see her face at the narrow opening.
“What is it?” cried Frank impatiently. “Take down the chain, and let me in. Don’t keep me standing here.”
“But her ladyship gave me strict orders, my dear, that I wasn’t to admit any one after dark, for there are so many wicked people about.”
“Did my father tell you not to admit me?” whispered Frank, with his face close to the narrow slit.
“What! before he went abroad, my dear?” faltered the woman.
“No, no—yesterday, to-day—whenever he came back.”
“Sir Robert, my dear?” whispered the woman, with her voice trembling.
“Don’t be so stupid. I must—I will see him. I saw his face at the window this afternoon.”