Once more the wind swept into my room, the door was quickly opened and
closed. A man-servant in his long coat, and cockaded hat tied round his
head with a piece of string, set down the lamp upon my table. Behind,
the girl and Mostyn Ray were talking.

"The man had better stop," he whispered. "There is the fire to be
made."

For the first time I heard her voice, very slow and soft, almost
languid, yet very pleasant to listen to.

"No!" she said firmly. "It will look so much like taking him by storm.
I can assure you that I am by no means a helpless person."

"And I," he answered, "am a campaigner."

"Get back as quickly as you can, Richards," she directed, "and get the
things I told you from Mrs. Brown. Jean must bring you back in the
motor."

Once more the door opened and shut. I heard the swish of her skirts as
she came over towards me.

"Poor fellow!" she murmured. "I'm afraid that he is very ill."

I opened my eyes and made an attempt to rise. She laid her hand upon my
shoulder and smiled,

"Please don't move," she said, "and do forgive us for this intrusion.
Colonel Ray wanted to call and apologize about this evening, and I am so