It was Miss Robinson's mysterious signal that cleared the room. One by one, like startled shadows, its denizens flitted thence, and left Rackham alone with Susan.
They hung over the stairs, buzzing like bees in the semi-darkness, thrilled by an interest that was vaguely heightened by alarm. At intervals they hushed each other into silence, listening with bated breath lest anything might transpire, and watching with a kind of fascination the crack of light that issued from the door of the sitting room. Only Miss Robinson herself went whispering, whispering on.
"Poor little girl!" said Rackham.
There was triumph and pity and a threatening kindness in his voice. His reckless personality seemed to fill the room that had been so suddenly deserted.
She had risen to her feet with a gasp at his entrance. A wave of panic swept over her head and left her slightly trembling;—because she had had no warning.
"How did you come here?" she said.
"Oh," he said, smiling down upon her. "I prevailed on a drab young woman who seems to have constituted herself your guardian to bring me in. I wasn't going to risk your giving me the slip as you did this morning. You wouldn't have seen me if I'd sent in a ceremonious message."
"No," she said, "I would not."
"I knew that," said Rackham. "The same pride that kept you from telling me the truth would have hidden you from me. You'd have had me turned from the door.—But the drab romancer was a great ally, though I've had to agree with most of her wild surmises.—I'll make you forgive me later."
He laughed under his breath.