‘But Philip’s in there, with that man,’ she cried again. Then she turned on him, with a flash of scorn: ‘And what are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to wait here—for the other man,’ he told them very quietly.
Gladys was clutching his arm. ‘No, no, you can’t. Come away.’
‘Listen, there’s no time to waste,’ he said, and as he spoke he hustled them across the room. ‘I must wait here until they’ve got Morgan safely tucked away. He may be down any moment. And you’ve got to be out of the way.’
‘I’ll stay,’ Gladys cried chokingly.
‘You can’t, my dear,’ he told her. ‘And we must hurry.’
They were at the other side of the room now. ‘But where can we go?’ Margaret was asking, looking at him piteously.
‘In there.’ He pointed to the door that he had opened before, when he had been changing his clothes. He remembered that there was a key on the inside. Now he ran forward, took it out, and then swept them in, Margaret first. For one brief moment his arm was round Gladys. ‘Sorry there’s no light for you. Yes, there is, though.’ He rushed away and then returned carrying the candle that Philip had had, now guttering sadly, and thrust it into Gladys’s hand. ‘You’ll be all right in there.’ His eyes dwelt on her face as if he was trying to remember it for ever. ‘Quite all right. Cheerio!’
Before they could do or say anything more he had closed the door and locked them in, leaving the key in the lock. If he left them free to rush out, anything might happen. He walked very slowly and quietly back into the middle of the hall, looking up at the stairs and listening.