Liane was heard to consent, stipulating, however, that they would stop only a moment; and the three entered the study to find Lanyard at a wide window in the rear wall, thoughtfully peering out through its tear-blinded panes.
"Ah! ah! my friend," Liane saluted him in lively imitation of the tone she might have used to a child caught in mild mischief; and wagged a forefinger of reproof. "What are you up to there?"
"Trying to make out whether or not it's raining," Lanyard serenely explained, dropping the draperies his hands had parted.
"You might have waited to enquire of us."
"Judging by the state of mind you and Monsieur Pagan were betraying when I saw you last," Lanyard retorted, "it seemed fair to doubt whether you'd pay much attention to a drop or two of water." He comprehended Pagan in a lightly mocking bow. "You might tell us—we've been no end mystified—"
"I know," Mr. Pagan interrupted brightly. "You want the answer to that historical riddle: Where was Morphew when the lights went out?"
"Not where he was, monsieur, but where he went—and not alone—and with such amazing expedition."
"We didn't know what to think," Folly declared. "You vanished from that room like tumblers in a pantomime."
"It was very simple," Pagan glibly elucidated: "Everybody seemed to be making for the roof, so we followed the crowd."
"Presuming, of course," Liane amended, "you would, as well."