again. The very thought of moving
nearer to the room where this man was waiting filled her with horror,
and yet it was surely as dangerous to remain where she was, too far away
to warn any one entering, and herself at the mercy of the conqueror in
the brief struggle. Her breath began to come more quickly as she
realized that she was trapped. Probably that man in the next room knew
all about her, knew just why she was there, and had made up his mind how
to deal with her. She found herself listening in ever-deepening horror
for that turn of the handle which should signal the coming of the man
for whom they both waited. Intervention of any sort would be welcome. An
intervention came, in a manner as commonplace as it was startling. The
bell of a telephone instrument on the top of the desk began to ring. A
moment's breathless indecision, and then she walked to the instrument
and took the receiver in her hand. Simultaneously she heard a stealthy
movement outside. Her fellow-watcher, whoever he might be, had also made
up his mind to know who was ringing up Norris Vine so late.

"Who's that?" the voice asked abruptly.

"Coniston Mansions, No. 57," Virginia answered, disguising her voice as
much as possible.

"Yes! but who is it in my rooms? That isn't Janion's voice, is it?"

Then Virginia knew that the person who spoke was Norris Vine himself,
and before every word she uttered she hesitated, thinking always of the
listener outside.

"No, it's not Janion," she answered. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to know whether my servant was there," the voice replied. "Who
are you, and what are you doing in my rooms?"

"Gone into the country?" Virginia said, speaking in a loud tone of
surprise. "You mean that he will not be here to-night, after all?"

The voice down the telephone came angry and perplexed.

"What the devil are you talking about?" it asked. "I am Norris Vine, and
I am speaking into my own rooms. I want to know who you are, and what
are you doing there."

"Then I think," Virginia continued, still speaking loudly, "that you
might be a little more careful before you send me on a fool's errand
like this. Here have I been waiting for half an hour for a man who you
declared was certain to come here before eleven o'clock. Now you tell me
that he is not returning to-night at all, gone into the country, or some
rubbish. Why can't you make sure of your facts? You seem to repeat any
stuff that's told you, and then think tha