So saying, he bowed with much formality and withdrew, purposing to call the footman to account for his negligence. But he failed to find him in the anteroom, and the front door, by which he had entered, proved to be locked and the key removed. He was forced to go back through the drawing-room and seek an exit by the servants' door; but this also was locked. One other door was known to him, leading into the kitchen, and he tried it. It would not open, however. In the dining-room was a bell-cord communicating with the servants' quarters; he pulled it sharply three times in succession, but no one answered his summons. Returning once more to the anteroom, he found it still empty. Evidently he and Edith were the only ones in the house. His heart beat tumultuously. He felt himself the victim of a curious plot whose outcome he could not foresee. Once more he returned to the music-room. At the sound of his step Edith came toward him. Her face was no longer flushed; she was very pale. But she met the young man's eyes calmly, with no sign of trembling or embarrassment. "Pardon me, Miss Edith," he began, "I have tried all the doors and found them locked, nor is there any one in the house to let me out." A life-size portrait of Alfonsine hung on the wall. To Richard, at that moment, the fair face seemed to smile down upon the scene with a malicious triumph. Edith, however, lost none of her composure. "The servants must have gone down into the courtyard," said she; "but I know where there is another key to the front door, and I will let you out." Against the wall hung a wicker-work device for holding keys, and in order to reach it Edith was forced to pass by Richard. When she was very near him he suddenly stepped in front of her. "One word, Edith," said he. "Do you know what is in my mind at this moment?" In his fancy the fair lady on the wall seemed to be carrying on a diabolical dialogue with his loudly beating heart. The world was on fire around him. Yet the young girl whom he was confronting stood there calmly and answered him with great presence of mind: "Yes; you are thinking: 'I once promised this girl never to offend her even with a look, and not to raise my eyes, when I stand before her, higher than her hands.'" Therewith she folded her hands and dropped them in front of her. "That is it," nodded Richard, feeling as if a hundred-pound weight had been removed from his breast. "And one thing more I must ask of you, Miss Edith," he added. "I have an urgent message to write to the baroness. Can you furnish me with writing-materials?" Edith opened her aunt's desk and, with a motion of her hand, invited him to be seated.