The landscape streamed past them for a space, till Isobel slowed down.
"Here we are," she said.
They turned into the Manor drive, and a moment later pulled up before the house.
"I'm so excited. I feel just like a cinema actress," whispered Isobel.
"So'm I. I've got one hand on my revolver and one on my card-case. Which d'you suppose will be wanted?"
"Neither. You'll have to use the revolver hand to ring the bell with."
"No, I shan't. Somebody's coming. Get ready to fly for your life.... Why, it's an ordinary butler!"
It was Mustapha who was the cause of Allen's disappointed whisper—a transformed Mustapha, wearing instead of his gorgeous robes the sober black of the English serving-man, and looking so villainous that Allen wondered for one moment whether he ought not to have brought his revolver in real earnest.
"Er—" said Isobel, "is Mr.—er...."