n would
have taken her hands once more. But at that moment an unexpected sound
intervened. The deep silence of the house was broken by the ringing of
the front door bell.

Duncombe started back. The girl half rose to her feet.

"The front door!" he exclaimed. "The servants will have gone to bed. I
must answer it myself."

She clung to him with a sudden abandon. She was white to the lips.

"I am afraid," she moaned. "Don't leave me alone."

He glanced towards the window.

"By Jove, it may be a trap!" he exclaimed. "Let them ring. I'll stay
here with you."

They stood hand in hand listening. His head was turned towards the door,
but the gentle pressure of her fingers drew him round. Her face was
upturned to his. Something of the fear had gone. There was an eager,
almost desperate, light in her softened eyes, and a tinge of color in
her cheeks. He caught her into his arms, and their lips met. She
disengaged herself almost immediately.

"I don't care," she said with a little laugh. "That is the first kiss I
have ever given to a man, and very likely it will be the last. You
won't be able to say that I have gone away without paying my bill. Now
go and open the front door, Sir George."

He hesitated for a moment.

"Say only the word, Phyllis, and no one in the world shall ever take you
away."

She did not even answer him. He left her with a little sigh.

"Spencer," he said, "if you hear the slightest noise in that room go in
and shout for me."

Spencer nodded. The front door bell rang again.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE EMPTY ROOM

Duncombe unfastened the chain and bolts of the ponderous front door, and
looked out into the darkness. A carriage and pair of horses were drawn
up outside. A man and a woman, both dressed in long travelling-coats,
were standing upon the door-step.

"This is Duncombe Hall, I believe?" the man said. "Is Sir George
Duncombe at home?"

"I am Sir George Duncombe," he answered. "Will you come inside?"

They crossed the threshold at once. The man was tall and dark, and his
voice and bearing were unmistakable. The woman was fair, _petite_, and
apparently very sleepy. She wore magnificent furs, and she had the air
of being in a very bad temper.

"We really are heartily ashamed of ourselves for disturbing you at such
an hour, Sir George," the man said, "but you will pardon us when you
understand the position. I am the Marquis de St. Ethol, and this is my
wife. I have a letter to you