"Have you been waiting long?" Ethel asked, coming close to him.
"Hours," he declared feelingly, then quickly corrected the statement. "No, I mean, not long." Back in the darkness he fancied he could see the truculent eyes glaring through the bars of the helmet.
"I couldn't get away," Ethel said invitingly. "Had to dodge Dagmar."
"Ho! she wanted to come too, did she?" Peckover remarked in desperation. "The more the merrier."
Ethel drew back with rather a sour look on her expectant face. "Mr. Gage, what do you mean?" Then with characteristic tenacity, she sidled up to him again. "Percy, how cold you are," she observed reproachfully.
"Cold?" he returned miserably. "Yes, it is a bit chilly. Enough to give any fellow the shivers. Chamber of Horrors is a fool to it. I mean," he quickly added, as an ominous movement of Carnaby's sword caught his eye, "the armour strikes cold."
"Of course," said Ethel huffily, "if you would prefer Dagmar, I'll go and send her to you."
"Oh, no; please don't trouble. You'll do," he replied, with an indifference born of desperation.
The lady resolved to try another tack. "Oh, Mr. Gage," she said, with a tremor in her voice; "how unkind you are!"
Her face was so close to him that the trial was almost more than he could stand. "No, no, not unkind," he denied, looking wildly round for a way of escape.