CHAPTER TWO

But the coolness and deliberation of his scrutiny, had to a
certain extent calmed Lawford's mind and given him confidence.
Hitherto he had met the little difficulties of life only to
vanquish them with ease and applause. Now he was standing face to
face with the unknown. He burst out laughing, into a long, low,
helpless laughter. Then he arose and began to walk softly,
swiftly, to and fro across the room--from wall to wall seven
paces, and at the fourth, that awful, unseen, brightly-lit
profile passed as swiftly over the tranquil surface of the
looking-glass. The power of concentration was gone again. He
simply paced on mechanically, listening to a Babel of questions,
a conflicting medley of answers. But above all the confusion and
turmoil of his brain, as a boatswain's whistle rises above a
storm, so sounded that same infinitesimal voice, incessantly
repeating another question now, 'What are you going to do? What
are you going to do?'

And in the midst of this confusion, out of the infinite, as it
were, came another sharp tap at the door, and all within sank to
utter stillness again.

'It's nearly half-past eight, Arthur; I can't wait any longer.'

Lawford cast a last fleeting look into the glass, turned, and
confronted the closed door. 'Very well, Sheila, you shall not
wait any longer.' He crossed over to the door, and suddenly a
swift crafty idea flashed into his mind.