"Is that you, Billy?"
John was silent for a moment. He had braced himself for an intensely violent scene. Now, in a flash, he realised that there were new and exciting possibilities. Nevertheless, caution animated his entire conduct.
In regard to Mrs. Beecher Monmouth he did not know that she had discovered his association with Dacent Smith; he was not aware of the lady's sentiments of bitter antagonism, of virulent hatred towards himself. He was to learn these things later. But at the moment he felt there was little danger of stepping into a trap. The beautiful woman whispering to him from the darkness awaited William Parkson, not Bernard Treves or John Manton.
"Is that you, Billy?"
Her voice came to him again in a tense whisper.
"Yes," answered John in a tone low as her own. She drew wider the door of Voules's dining-room.
"I told you to come straight in, Billy. Why did you ring the bell?" she admonished him, lifting her voice to a more ordinary tone.
"Oh, I don't know; I forgot," answered John.
"Come in——" Her hand groped forward and took his. She drew him into the heavily-curtained darkness of the dining-room and closed the door.
"We mustn't light up till eight o'clock, Billy," she whispered.