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.
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