A couple of minutes passed, and then there was a scraping, rustling noise outside, the semi-darkness was deepened by a figure in the balcony, the window was drawn outwards, and a man passed in, whispering:
“May—sweet—are you there?”
A faintly uttered sigh was the response, and quick as thought the French window was closed, a step or two taken into the silent drawing-room, and May Burnett was tightly clasped in the arms of the nocturnal intruder.
“My darling!”
“No, no. Now one word, and you must go,” she whispered quickly. “I have done as I promised; now keep your word—to stay only one minute—say one word and go.”
“And I will keep it,” he cried, “my beautiful little love, my—Damnation!”
May started from his arms, for at that moment there was a thundering knock at the front door, and a violent drag at the bell.