It was at that moment that Mercy, having stood an instant at the bottom of the stairs, had ventured nervously into the bar. Turning about, Hugh Ritson came face to face with her. At the sight of her his crimsoning cheeks became white with wrath.
"Didn't I tell you to be in bed?" he muttered, in a low, hoarse whisper.
"I've only come for ... I came down for ... Hugh, don't be angry with me."
"Come, get back, then; don't stand there. Quick—and mind you lock your door."
"Yes, I'm going. You wouldn't be angry with me, would you?"
"Well, no, perhaps not; only get off—and quick! Do you hear? Why don't you go?"
"I only came down for ... I only came...."
"God! what foolery is this? The girl's fainting. Never mind. Here, landlady, bring a light! Lead the way. She's not too heavy to carry. Upstairs with you. What a snail you are, old woman! Which room?"
Another knock at the outer door. Another and another in rapid succession.
"I'm a-coming, I'm a-coming!" cried the landlady from the floor above.