Colonel Treves glanced at the clock on his desk.
"Why, it's nearly seven!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea it was so late. I must run away and change. You'll want to get out of those puttees, Bernard," he said, glancing at John.
"Thank you," said John. "I am in the south room, sir?"
The Colonel nodded, and John, wondering exactly where the south room might be, went out of the library. He walked along the corridor, and chanced upon a house-maid.
"Which is my room, please?" he said.
The housemaid preceded him along the passage, and opened a door, switched on the electric light.
John thanked her, and found himself in an imposing bedroom, beautifully furnished in the French style. His suit-case had been unstrapped and was upon a stand at the foot of the bed. Laid neatly out upon the bed itself were his clothes for the evening. A fine apartment, thought John, and at that moment a knock fell upon the door.
"Come in," he called. The door opened quietly, and Elaine stepped into the room. She advanced across the room in the most natural manner in the world. There was a light in her fine grey eyes, and she was visibly and quite frankly delighted to be alone with John. John, for his part, saw in a flash the awkwardness of the position chance had imposed upon him. In his sudden surprise in finding Elaine under Colonel Treves's roof he had overlooked a tête-à-tête of this kind. He had indeed hardly had time to think of the matter at all.
"Bernard, are you really pleased to see me?"
"Delighted," John answered, wondering what other word he could use, for, as a matter of truth, he was delighted and appalled at the same time. He felt that the situation involving him would require the utmost finesse, if he meant to escape satisfactorily. His own nerves were strung up to a high pitch of tension, and it came as a surprise to him that Elaine should act as though their presence together in that stately sleeping apartment was the most natural event in the world.