With her heart overflowing, her eyes half blind with tears, she tore back the bolt. He did not move at her entrance, not even when she fell on her knees beside him. “Oh, Colin, Colin!” His hands fell from his white, pinched face and tired eyes. He regarded her in a vague fashion. “Kitty,” he said dreamily, “by any beautiful chance, did you mean what you said about your lips?” And then it seemed the most natural thing in the world that they should be in each other’s arms. * * * * * “There must be a kitchen and larder somewhere. Are you able to come and look, Colin?” They were both pretty shaky, but they went exploring along that stone passage like lovers in a sequestered country lane. They discovered a comfortable kitchen, with two basket easy chairs, and a well-stocked larder. “We must eat awfully little to begin with,” said the wise Kitty. “And you must sit in that nice chair till I prepare it.” They partook cautiously of some very light dainties, and sipped a little wine and water; and then Colin felt equal to a wash-up; and then they made love; and then Colin went along to give the man, who was inclined to be boisterous, a word of warning; and then they made more love, and talked a little sense as well; but the sense made them very sleepy and for a space they forgot even each other; and when Colin woke up he beheld Kitty preparing something for breakfast; and it was such a delicious sight to behold her with her sleeves rolled up that he was almost angry when Risk and West, having forced a silent entrance to the house, smashed their way down to the basement. * * * * * Later, safely at Hilda’s flat, Kitty would have thanked Risk, but he stopped her almost at the first word. “No, Miss Carstairs,” he said, with a rueful smile, “I have found out that I’m not clever. I thought I was till I met your aunt. I have to thank her for saving me from a bitter failure. I believe she will yet save her unhappy brother. And,” he paused for a moment, “I think we may leave Mr. Symington to receive his punishment from her—unless you would prefer—” “Oh, let him go,” she cried with a shudder. “I hope I may never see him, or Dunford, again. . . . I want to ask you a question, Mr. Risk. Do I—do I owe you a hundred pounds?” “Alas, no,” he answered meaningly; “I’m not the lucky man.” “Ah!” said Hilda, “I was sure of it all the time!” “Colin!” exclaimed Kitty before she could prevent it, and blushed adorably. Colin turned inquiringly from his talk with West. “Yes, dearest,” he said quite naturally, and then blushed also. There was an interesting silence till the young man stammered: “By the way, hasn’t Kitty told you we were engaged?” “Well,” remarked Hilda, when the congratulations were over, “I must say I never thought of Mr. Symington as a match-maker!” CHAPTER XXVII