She was starting for the wing, when she turned suddenly and ran back to the cupboard.
Elsie! Of course!
It was five minutes before she could rouse Central, who had probably eaten too many chocolates and fallen asleep. Three more before anyone in the house on States Avenue could be awakened. But finally a man’s voice demanded drowsily:
“Well, what is it, this time of night?”
Gita nearly dropped the receiver. “Dr. Pelham? It can’t be you! Is it you?”
The voice sprang to life. “Is that you, Gi—Mrs. Bylant?”
“Yes. Come quickly. Don’t ask any questions. Bring Elsie. Bring—other things.”
The voice became cool and alert. “We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”
Gita replaced the receiver on its hook. “What luck! What luck!” But she was trembling once more.
She knew nothing of first aid and she felt she never wanted to look at Eustace again. She hoped she hadn’t killed him, as she had no desire to be a murderess, even in self-defense. But the violence of that embrace and those kisses had turned her heart into granite. She could feel its weight.