They had both heard some one trying the conservatory door. It was nearest the end of the terrace and the first door from the side entrance to the grounds. Astry flung away his cigarette.
"It's Belhaven," he said dryly. "I knew he must have gone out this way."
He went back and unlocked the door and opened it. There was a piercing blast of cold air and the lights danced up and down with a weird effect as some one came in. Charter had turned, too, but he stood still, aghast.
It was Rachel!
She had thrown on a long fur coat, but she was covered with snow to her knees and her dark hair had escaped its bonds and was curling in little wild tendrils about her white face. She did not see him and she stood leaning against the door, gasping.
"Oh, Johnstone, quick! I was looking out—a long while ago—and I saw a man come out on the terrace; you know I can see this end of it from my window. He fell in the snow at the gate. I've been looking for him ever and ever so long and I can't find him!"
"Good heavens, Rachel, in this snow? You're mad!"
"No, I—" She stopped; she had just seen Charter and she gave a little cry of joy. "Oh, John—John, I thought it was you!"
He was at her side now and caught hold of her.
"You're half frozen. For heaven's sake, Astry, get some brandy; look at her, feel of her hands!"