Hardly had the sound of the silvery bells died away when a second figure scaled the balcony, and, seeing the light over the top of the curtain, as arranged, he placed his hand upon the long glass door and slowly opened it.
He drew aside the curtain slightly to ascertain if Jean were there awaiting him, and, seeing her, he entered boldly.
Ralph was dressed just as he had been in the morning, only he wore yellow lisle-thread gloves, so as to conceal his finger-prints, which, alas! were too well known to the police.
Husband and wife faced each other, in ignorance that an intruder stood concealed behind that curtain within two or three feet of them.
The intruder had fixed his eyes upon Jean, and stood staring at her as though fascinated by her amazing beauty.
“At last, Ralph!” she gasped. “I—I thought perhaps you would not come—that you would think the risk too great.”
“Bah! What risk?” he asked. “Even if I were discovered, Bracondale could easily be satisfied that we are husband and wife.”
She shrank back at those words.
“The child saw you with me this morning and told her father.”