Steps, undisguised and clear, passed from the grass to the stone steps of the house and ascended, crossed the stoep and were lost to hearing in the doorway.
The two women waited, breathless. It sprang to Margaret's mind that the lantern must have shown her clearly to Kamis, where he waited in the darkness, and he must have seen the climax of her efforts and her handkerchief at her lips, and gone forthwith to the study for the drugs which would put an end to the matter.
"Look," whispered Mrs. Jakes. "Some one is striking matches—in the study."
The window brightened and darkened again and then lit with a steady glow; the invader had found a candle. Mrs. Jakes dropped Margaret's arm.
"I must see who it is," she said. "Walking into people's houses like this."
Margaret held her back; she was starting forthwith to bring the majesty of her presence to bear on the unknown and possibly dangerous intruder. Mrs. Jakes had a house as well as a husband and could die at need for either.
"No, don't go," said Margaret. "I know who it is. It's all right, if only you won't be—well, silly about it."
"Who is it, then?" demanded Mrs. Jakes.
Margaret felt feeble and unequal to the position. Her chest was painful, she was cold, and now there was about to be a delicate affair with Mrs. Jakes. She could have laughed at the growing complexity of things, but had the wit not to.
"It 's a doctor," she said; "a real London doctor. He was passing when you left me to get the lantern, and I wouldn't let him stay because I thought you 'd be annoyed. He 's gone into the house to—"