His hand dropped from her arm as he moved invisibly away towards the door. In the darkness around her she could hear movements and startled exclamations. The orchestra, after mechanically playing a couple of bars, had fallen to silence. Some one blundered into her and passed on before she could put out her hand.
“Well, at least I know where the door is,” she assured herself; and she began to move towards it.
Meanwhile the cries for help continued to come from the museum. Then, abruptly, they were hushed; and she shuddered as she thought of what that cessation might mean. She moved forward and came to what seemed an unobstructed space on the floor, over which she was able to advance freely.
Her whole senses were concentrated on reaching the exit; but her mind appeared to work independently of her own volition and to conjure up the possibilities behind this series of events. Sir Clinton had evidently expected some criminal attempt that night; and he had assumed that the museum would be the objective. But suppose he were wrong. Perhaps the affair in the museum was only a blind to draw towards it all the men outside the ball-room. Then, when they were disposed of, there might come an incursion here. Most of the women had taken advantage of their fancy dress to deck themselves out with jewellery, and a few armed men could easily reap a small fortune in a minute or two. Despite the soundness of her nerves, she began to feel anxious, and to conjure up still more appalling pictures.
Suddenly her eyes were dazzled by a flash of light as a man beside her struck a match. Almost at the same moment she felt a hand on her shoulder and she was pulled backwards so brusquely that she almost lost her balance and slipped.
“Put out that match, you fool!” said Michael’s voice. “Do you want to have these girls’ dresses in a blaze?”
The flare of the match had revealed a circle of startled faces. The room was filled with excited voices and a sound of confused movements. Over at the orchestra a music-stand fell with a clash of metal. Then, close beside her in the darkness, Joan heard a girl’s voice repeating monotonously in tones of acute fear: “What does it mean? Oh, what does it mean?”
“Much good that does any one,” Joan muttered, contemptuously. Then, aloud, she called: “Michael!”
Before he could reply, there came a sharp exclamation in a man’s voice:
“Stand back, there! My partner’s fainted.”