"It's my turn to play," she said. "And Blanche is coming here to look
for me. Wait there, and I'll stop her on the steps."

She went out at once. It was a critical moment. Discovery, which meant
moral-ruin to the woman, meant money-ruin to the man. Geoffrey had not
exaggerated his position with his father. Lord Holchester had twice paid
his debts, and had declined to see him since. One more outrage on his
father's rigid sense of propriety, and he would be left out of the will
as well as kept out of the house. He looked for a means of retreat,
in case there was no escaping unperceived by the front entrance.
A door--intended for the use of servants, when picnics and gipsy
tea-parties were given in the summer-house--had been made in the back
wall. It opened outward, and it was locked. With his strength it was
easy to remove that obstacle. He put his shoulder to the door. At the
moment when he burst it open he felt a hand on his arm. Anne was behind
him, alone.

"You may want it before long," she said, observing the open door,
without expressing any surprise, "You don't want it now. Another person
will play for me--I have told Blanche I am not well. Sit down. I have
secured a respite of five minutes, and I must make the most of it. In
that time, or less, Lady Lundie's suspicions will bring her here--to see
how I am. For the present, shut the door."

She seated herself, and pointed to a second chair. He took it--with his
eye on the closed door.

"Come to the point!" he said, impatiently. "What is it?"