Then suddenly the door clicked and closed. They turned their
heads, and he started violently back. In the shadow of the room
stood a great shadowy figure--silent. They saw the face dimly in
the half-light, with unexpressive dark patches under the penthouse
brows. Every muscle in Raut's body suddenly became tense. When
could the door have opened? What had he heard? Had he heard all?
What had he seen? A tumult of questions.

The new-comer's voice came at last, after a pause that seemed
interminable. "Well?" he said.

"I was afraid I had missed you, Horrocks," said the man at the
window, gripping the window-ledge with his hand. His voice was
unsteady.

The clumsy figure of Horrocks came forward out of the shadow.
He made no answer to Raut's remark. For a moment he stood above
them.

The woman's heart was cold within her. "I told Mr. Raut it
was just possible you might come back," she said, in a voice that
never quivered.

Horrocks, still silent, sat down abruptly in the chair by her
little work-table. His big hands were clenched; one saw now the
fire of his eyes under the shadow of his brows. He was trying to
get his breath. His eyes went from the woman he had trusted to the
friend he had trusted, and then back to the woman.