“If you don’t leave this house,” she said in a low voice, “I shall telephone for a policeman.”
“Take me back, Eris,” he whined. “As God sees me, I love you! I’ll work my fingers to the bone for you——”
“Leave this house,” she repeated.
He tried the door again, gently, then wrenched at the knob. Suddenly he threw his full weight against the door. But they wrought well in the days when that old house was built.
Listening, she heard him moving off, softly, and realised he had removed his shoes.
For a long while she continued to listen, but heard no further sound from him. There was not the slightest sense of fear in her, merely loathing and weariness unutterable.
She went back, finally, to the bed and lay down across it.
Four o’clock struck in the living-room. After that she remembered listening and trying to remain awake.
She had been sleeping heavily for two hours when Eddie Carter, alias E. Stuart Graydon, tried the bolt with the blade of a kitchen knife. He had contrived, also, to fashion another instrument out of a steel fork. Neither of these worked.