That was Seymour! She was certain of it. She put the receiver back in its place and stood quite still, listening. The bell was rung. Murgatroyd could not have gone to bed. He would answer the bell no doubt. If he did not she would have to answer it. After a pause she heard the bell again, then, almost immediately the front door being opened, and a faint murmur of voices. An instant later she heard the cab drive away. Perhaps—had Seymour called and gone away? Could Murgatroyd have—The door behind her opened. She turned sharply.
“Sir Seymour Portman has called to see you, my lady.”
Looking beyond Murgatroyd she saw Seymour standing in the hall, in evening dress and a thick black overcoat.
Seymour had sent away his cab!
She went into the hall smiling faintly.
“So you have come! I was just going to speak to your man through the telephone, to tell him not to bother you, that it didn’t matter, and that to-morrow would do as well. It’s so very late.”
He began to take off his overcoat, helped by Murgatroyd.
“Not a bit too late!” he said. “I shall enjoy a little talk with you by the fire. Thanks, Murgatroyd! I was dining out with the Montgomeries in Eaton Square.”
“Come upstairs.”
She led the way, and as she mounted slowly with him close behind her she felt weak and now horribly afraid. She went into the drawing-room. He followed and shut the door, then came slowly, with his firm tread, towards her and the fire.