"No, thanks," said he, turning to go.
"The maid locked the door on us!" said I, and before the words were out of my mouth three of the Arabs slipped into the outer room. There was no hint or display of weapons of any kind, but they were big men, and the folds of their garments were sufficiently voluminous to have hidden a dozen guns apiece.
"She'll open it!" said Will, with inflection that a fool could understand.
"One minute, please!" said Lady Saffren Waldon. (It was no poor imitation of Queen Elizabeth ordering courtiers about.)
"We didn't come to talk," said Will. "Heard screams. Made a mistake.
Sorry. We're off!"
"No mistake!" she said; and the sweetness Monty prophesied began to show itself. The change in her voice was too swift and pronounced to be convincing. "I did scream. I was, in pain. It was kind of you to come. Since you are here I would like you to talk to this gentleman."
She glanced at the Arab, an able-looking man, with nose and eyes expressive of keen thought, and the groomed gray beard that makes an Arab always dignified.
"Some other time," said Will. "I've an engagement!" And he turned to go again.
"No—now!" she said. "It's no use—you can't get out! You may as well be sensible and listen!"
We glanced at each other and both remembered Monty's warning. Will laughed.