"Not for another half an hour. I am so lonely."
He was hesitating whether he should stay, when they both heard the sound of voices outside—voices that might have been angry. A moment later the door opened, and Beatrice Stanmore came in, accompanied by her grandfather.
"Forgive me," panted the girl, "but I could not help coming. Something told me you were in great danger—ill—dying, and I have come."
She had come to him just as she had come to him that night at Wendover Park, and at her coming the power of Romanoff was gone. It was the same now. As if by magic, he felt free from the charm of Olga Petrovic. The woman was evil, and he hated evil.
Again the eyes of Beatrice Stanmore were fixed on the face of Olga Petrovic. She did not speak, but her look was expressive of a great loathing.
"Surely this is a strange manner to disturb one's privacy," said the Countess. "I am at a loss to know to what I am indebted for this peculiar attention. I must speak to my servants."
But Beatrice spoke no word in reply to her. Turning towards Dick again, she looked at him for a few seconds.
"I am sorry I have disturbed you," she said. "Something, I do not know what, told me you were in some terrible danger, and I went back to the restaurant. A man there told us you had come here. I am glad I was mistaken. Forgive me, I will go now."
"I am thankful you came," said Dick. "I—I am going."
"Good-night, Countess," he added, turning to Olga, and without another word turned to leave the room. But Olga Petrovic was not in the humour to be baffled. She rushed towards him and caught his arm.