"Who's there?" she demanded in a trembling voice.
"It is I; Madame Cimmino." The tones were repressed and oddly civil after the tempestuous outburst of a few minutes previous. "Open the door, please; I have a message from Mrs. Atterbury."
Betty drew on her slippers and, wondering, obeyed. The sallow face of the Italian was still flushed and her dull eyes glowed with undiminished resentment, but she essayed a faint smile.
"You must not mind what I have said to you just now. I was quite mad! My nerves are shattered by this sudden calamity and I, too, feared that Mr. Wolvert had been killed." She spoke reluctantly with an obvious effort, and Betty realized at whose instigation the halting apology was tendered. "Mrs. Atterbury requests that you sleep in her room for the rest of the night. She will join you presently and does not wish to be left alone. You need not trouble about Caroline. I, myself, will attend to her. Come at once, please."
There was a veiled command beneath her studied courtesy and she had placed herself upon the threshold so that the door could not be closed again barring her out.
Betty's gleam of hope died within her, but she forced herself to reply composedly:
"Certainly, Madame Cimmino. If you will wait a moment I shall be with you."
Her simple preparations made before the unwavering eyes of the other woman, she followed docilely down the hall to Mrs. Atterbury's room. The bed was in disorder and the embers dying in the grate, but her companion replenished them and closed and locked the windows, drawing the heavy parted curtains tightly together.
"Sleep if you can, Miss Shaw." She paused in the doorway, a little triumphant gleam lighting her eyes. "There is nothing now to fear. No intruder can enter for he will be shot on sight. I hope you will rest comfortably."
She closed the door and the lock clicked as a key was deliberately turned in it and withdrawn. Betty was a prisoner!