“I cannot come in.”
But just at this moment her intention was changed, and her subsequent action was determined in her by a trifling event, one of those events which teach the world to believe in Fate. A door, the door of Mrs. Birchington’s flat, clicked behind her. Someone was coming out.
Instantly, driven by the thought “I mustn’t be seen!” Miss Van Tuyn stepped into Arabian’s flat. She expected to hear the front door of it close immediately behind her. But instead she heard Mrs. Birchington’s high soprano voice saying:
“Oh, how d’you do? Glad to meet you again!”
Quickly she opened the second door on the left and stepped into Arabian’s drawing-room. Why had he been so slow in shutting the front door? She must have been seen. Certainly she had been seen by that horrible Minnie Birchington. There would be more gossip. It would be all over London that she was perpetually in this man’s flat. Why had not he shut the door directly she had stepped into the hall? Her nervous tension found momentary relief in sudden violent anger against him, and when at length she heard the door shut, and his footstep outside, she turned round to meet him with fierce resolution.
“Why did you do that?”
“Beg pardon!” he said, gently, and looking surprised.
“Why didn’t you shut the front door? That—Mrs. Birchington must have seen me. I know she has seen me!”
“I had no time. I could not refuse to speak to her, could I? I could not be rude to a lady.”
“But I didn’t wish her to see me!”