“Don’t! Don’t!” she cried, and she sprang forward to catch his arm.
But already he had parted the curtains. He saw no one and passed on into the hall, and the curtains closed behind him. Pallid, breathless, the countess awaited the sudden uproar of the struggle.
But after a minute Freeman reappeared.
“There was no one?” she asked.
“No one. But what made you try to stop me from going in?”
“Just nerves,” she said.
They sat down and Freeman had begun to run on about the fortune that was almost theirs, when there was a ring. The countess opened the door. Into the room walked Drexel.
A baleful exultation leaped into Freeman’s dark face. But his impulse to shoot Drexel was instantly checked by the realization that the shot would bring the merry-makers overhead trooping down as witnesses to his deed.
“Why, hello!” he cried holding out his hand. “How did you escape? I’m mighty glad to see you!”
“And I to see you,” said Drexel quietly.