Walking restlessly up and down the middle of the room, keeping out of
sight of the windows, was Victoire. She wore a very anxious air, as did
Charolais too. By the door stood Bernard Charolais; and his natural,
boyish timidity, to judge from his frightened eyes, had assumed an
acute phase.

"By the Lord, we're done!" cried Charolais, starting back from the
window. "That was the front-door bell."

"No, it was only the hall clock," said Bernard.

"That's seven o'clock! Oh, where can he be?" said Victoire, wringing
her hands. "The coup was fixed for midnight.... Where can he be?"

"They must be after him," said Charolais. "And he daren't come home."
Gingerly he drew back the curtain and resumed his watch.

"I've sent down the lift to the bottom, in case he should come back by
the secret entrance," said Victoire; and she went to the opening into
the well of the lift and stood looking down it, listening with all her
ears.

"Then why, in the devil's name, have you left the doors open?" cried
Charolais irritably. "How do you expect the lift to come up if the
doors are open?"

"I must be off my head!" cried Victoire.

She stepped to the side of the lift and pressed a button. The doors
closed, and there was a grunting click of heavy machinery settling into
a new position.

"Suppose we telephone to Justin at the Passy house?" said Victoire.

"What on earth's the good of that?" said Charolais impatiently. "Justin
knows no more than we do. How can he know any more?"

"The best thing we can do is to get out," said Bernard, in a shaky
voice.

"No, no; he will come. I haven't given up hope," Victoire protested.
"He's sure to come; and he may need us."

"But, hang it all! Suppose the police come! Suppose they ransack his
papers.... He hasn't told us what to do ... we are not ready for
them.... What are we to do?" cried Charolais, in a tone of despair.

"Well, I'm worse off than you are; and I'm not making a fuss. If the
police come they'll arrest me," said Victoire.

"Perhaps they've arrested him," said Bernard, in his shaky voice.

"Don't talk like that," said Victoire fretfully. "Isn't it bad enough
to wait and wait, without your croaking like a scared crow?"

She started again her pacing up and down the room, twisting her hands,
and now and again moistening her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

Presently she said: "Are those two plain-clothes men still there
watching?" And in her anxiety she came a step