When the door had closed he turned to Cherriton.
"She has heard nothing of him; she knows no more than we do."
"She is a beautiful woman, I'll admit," said Cherriton, who had been deep in thought. He raised his strong, supple hand and pointed towards the door. "Just open that," he said quietly, "and see who it is who is coming to visit her."
Manners, with his usual swiftness of step and dexterity of movement, approached the door and noiselessly drew it open. Quietly he put his head out and looked along the passage. Then he drew back and gently closed the door. His face, when he turned towards Cherriton, was deathly white.
"Who is it?" demanded Cherriton, who had come swiftly to his feet.
"Bernard Treves!" answered Manners, moistening his lips with his tongue. The thought that Treves had betrayed them blazed through his mind.
In an instant Cherriton sprang to the window and peered furtively up and down the street.
"He's alone," he said, with a note of relief in his voice.
"Gott in Himmel!" exclaimed Manners under his breath. "How did he get here?"
"Either escaped or acquitted," answered Cherriton, curtly. "Our business," he went on swiftly, under his breath, "is to express great delight when we see him. In the meantime I'll compose myself with a cigarette."