Gustave looked at her for a moment then, remembering his duties, went slowly to the door, listening the while as if expecting a further bombardment to break out. With the exception of Miss Wangle and the cook, everybody was on the qui vive of expectation. "It's the police," suggested Mrs. Craske-Morton, with conviction. "Or the ambulance," ventured Miss Sikkum in a trembling voice. "They're collecting the dead," she added optimistically. All eyes were riveted upon the kitchen door. Steps were heard descending the stairs. A moment later the door was thrown open and Gustave in a voice strangely unlike his own announced: "'Ees Lordship, madame." Bowen entered the kitchen and cast a swift look about him. A light of relief passed over his face as he saw Patricia. Some instinct that she could neither explain nor control caused her to go over to him, and before she knew what was taking place both her hands were in his. "Thank God!" he breathed. "I was afraid it was this house. I heard a bomb had dropped here. Oh, my dear! I've been in hell!" There was something in his voice that thrilled her as she had never been thrilled before. She looked up at him smiling, then suddenly with a great content she remembered that she had dressed herself with care. Bowen looked about him, and seeing Mrs. Craske-Morton, went over and shook hands. "She's a regular heroine, Peter," said Patricia, unconscious that she had used his name. "She's been so splendid." Mrs. Craske-Morton smiled at Patricia, again her human smile. "Oh! go away, make him go away!" It was Mrs. Mosscrop-Smythe who spoke. Her words had an electrifying effect upon everyone. Miss Wangle sat up and made feverish endeavours to straighten her wig. Jenny, the housemaid, looked round for cover that was nowhere available. The cook became aware of her lack of clothing. Miss Sikkum strove to minimise the exhibition of feminine bone-structure. Mrs. Barnes made a dive for Mr. Bolton, who was still holding various of her garments that he had retrieved. These she seized from him as if he had been a pickpocket, and thrust them under her arm. "Oh, please go away!" moaned the cook. "Come upstairs," said Patricia as she led the way out of the kitchen, to the relief of those whose reawakened modesty saw in Bowen's presence an outrage to decorum. Switching on the light in the lounge, Patricia threw herself into a chair. She was beginning to feel the reaction. "Why did you come?" she asked. "I heard that a bomb had fallen in this street and---well, I had to come. I was never in such a funk in all my life." "How did you get round here; did you bring the car?" "No, I couldn't get the car out, I walked it," said Bowen briefly. "That was very sweet of you," said Patricia gratefully, looking up at him in a way she had never looked at him before. "And now I think you must be going. We must all go to bed again." "Yes, the 'All Clear' will sound soon, I think," replied Bowen.