"But I must go, Herr Schmidt! Please, oh, please don’t stop me! It is important—" "Poor little one, no, I will not stop you. I will kom also." He moved aside and began to open the door. She said coldly, "It—it is a private matter!" "Zen take your bruzzer, Fräulein." "He is out." "Zen I know. See, I will be blind, Fräulein. I will be deaf. I see noting. I hear noting. I do but take care of you, Fräulein, hein?" "Very well," she said impatiently. "I want a cab." He beamed. "Zat is right, meine liebe. All will be well now." Nell was quivering with nervous impatience. She gave the driver Ted Lancaster’s address and sprang into the cab. She was conscious of the heavy jolt as Herr Schmidt climbed in—so slowly, oh, so slowly! She had lost all sense of proportion in her mind. She was absorbed in a sort of wild terror, a foreboding, and her one idea was to get to Ted Lancaster. It was all his fault. He would know. Probably, almost certainly, it was at his house it was all going on. She did not wait to wonder what Denis would think of her appearance on the scene. She had only room for one thought—to get him away, to warn him, before the police came. The cab stopped at last at No. 16 Gowan Square, and they got out. Herr Schmidt rang the bell, and after an interval the door was opened by a sleepy-looking maid. "Mr. Lancaster, miss?’ He isn’t at home. Oh, Mr. Edward—yes, he’s at home. Will you come this way?" They entered the handsome hall; the maid opened a door and showed them into a small sort of anteroom. "What name, please?" But Nell was strung up to such a pitch now that she could wait no longer. She followed the maid across the hall. In answer to her knock a lazy voice responded, "Come in." Then, as she opened the door: "You don’t mean to say you’ve come, Thompson! Why, I’ve only rung once!" Over the maid’s shoulder Nell saw a large, handsome room; a table still littered with the dinner things; a huge fire, and in front of it a chair, over the top of which she could see a piece of smooth, dark head. On the mantel-shelf reposed a pair of patent-leather shoes; she had a glimpse of the legs they belonged to, of a pair of black silk socks with a little green pattern on them, and a haze of blue smoke. She saw it all in a lightning flash, and Denis was not there! The pleasant, lazily sarcastic voice had drowned the maid’s words. She began again. "Thompson’s out, sir, and it’s a lady to see you." "A lady?" Neither the head nor the feet moved. "Oh, I say, Mary, it’s the Pater she wants." "She said you, sir." "Don’t you know her?" "No, sir, and—and she’s _here_," in a desperate voice, suddenly becoming aware of Nell’s proximity. "Here!" Down came the legs; up jumped Ted Lancaster. "Oh, I say!" He stood facing Nell, red and uncomfortable. He gave his hair a surreptitious pat and flung his cigarette into the fire. Then he turned on Mary.