At this moment an electric bell sounded below.
“There he is!” said Miss Van Tuyn, quickly giving back the card to Garstin, who dropped it into his pocket. “Do go down quickly and let him in, or he may think it is all a hoax and go away.”
The painter stood looking at her keenly, with his hands in his pockets and his strong, thin legs rather wide apart.
“Well, at any rate you’re damned unconventional!” he said. “At this moment you even look unconventional. What are your eyes shining about?”
“Dick—do go!”
She laid a hand on his arm. There was a strong grip in her fingers.
“This is a little adventure. And I love an adventure,” she said.
“I only hope it ends badly,” said Garstin, as he turned towards the staircase. “He’s more patient than you. He hasn’t rung twice.”
“I believe he’s gone away,” she said, almost angrily as he disappeared down the stairs.
She got up. There was a grand piano in the studio at the far end. She moved as if she were going towards it, then returned and went to the head of the stairs. She heard the front door open and listened. Dick Garstin’s big bass voice said in an offhand tone: