ry and cunning.

"And why do you tell me that?" he asked in a voice which was thick and
formidable. She had a notion that he did not know who she was and then
suddenly she became afraid. She had discovered a secret--his secret. For
once in the towns he had let himself go. She had a hope now that he could
not move and that he knew it; he sat as still as his arm-chair.

"I had forgotten to tell you," she replied. "I thought you might like to
know beforehand."

"Why should I like to know beforehand?"

She had his secret, he plied her with questions to know if she had it.
She must hide her knowledge. Every instinct warned her to hide it.

"The people who are coming are strangers to India," she said, "but I have
told them of you and they will come expectant."

"You are very kind."

She had spoken lightly and with a laugh. Ballantyne replied without irony
or amusement and with his eyes fixed upon her face. Mrs. Repton could not
account for the panic which seized hold upon her. She had dined in
Captain Ballantyne's company before often enough; he had now been for
three days in her house; she had recognised his ability and had neither
particularly liked nor disliked him. Her main impression had been that he
was not good enough for Stella, and it was an impression purely feminine
and instinctive. Now suddenly he had imposed himself upon her as a
creature dangerous, beastlike. She wanted to get out of the room but she
dared not, for she was sure that her careful steps would, despite
herself, change into a run. She sat down, meaning to read for a few
moments, compose herself and then go. But no sooner had she taken her
seat than her terror increased tenfold, for Ballantyne rose swiftly from
his chair and walking in a circle round the room with an extraordinarily
light and noiseless step disappeared behind her. Then he sat down. Mrs.
Repton heard the slight grating of the legs of a chair upon the floor. It
was a chair at a writing-table close by the window and exactly at her
back. He could see every movement which she made, and she could see
nothing, not so much as the tip of one of his fingers. And of his fingers
she was now afraid. He was watching her from his point of vantage; she
seemed to feel his eyes burning upon the nape of her neck. And he said
nothing; and he did not stir. It was broad daylight, she assured herself.
She had but to cross the room to the bell beside the fireplace. Nay, she
had only to scream--and she