hall, speaking with one another in an undertone.
What they said Mr. Morgan could not hear--their voices, too, were too
low to be recognized--but he had no doubt at all regarding their
identity. Seven weeks of their fellowship had blessed (or cursed) him
with a familiarity with their style and proportions such as no manner
of wraps and tricksy half-lights could subvert. With a full heart and
twitching lips, Mr. Morgan dwelt blasphemously upon the several
destinies for which, to his mind, their untimely appearance had
qualified them.

"What are you going to do about the door?" whispered Betty. "We can't
leave it open."

"Well, we can't shut it," said George, "can we?"

"Put it to," Anne suggested. "He won't be more than a minute or two,
and when he comes he can just push it open."

The truth of the matter was that Jose and Patch, who had gone
a-hunting, had not returned when the party had left for Bell Hammer.
It was possible that, during their absence, the dogs had come back, and
Anthony did not like to think that truant Patch might be wandering
around the house, seeking admission in vain. Consequently, after the
car had been noiselessly bestowed--out of consideration for their
employers' rest, the four had alighted before they left the road and
had man-handled a silent Ford up the drive and into the garage--Lyveden
had bidden the others go on, and had started off upon a visiting
patrol, the objectives of which were the several entrances to the
residence. If Patch was anywhere, he would be crouched upon one of the
doorsteps....

Anne's suggestion seeming reasonable, her brother secured the Yale lock
so that its tongue was engaged, and, quietly closing the door, followed
his wife and sister a-tiptoe through the hall and past the baize door
which led to the servants' quarters.

As they passed the foot of the stairs, Betty remarked the shaft of
moonlight shining upon the landing, and Mr. Morgan's black heart stood
still. When her husband reminded her that in less than four hours it
would be her privilege to prepare Mrs. Bumble's tea, and added that, if
she felt lyrical, he felt tired and footsore, Mr. Morgan, had his
emotions included gratitude, would have thanked his stars.

Such devotion, however, would have been premature.

Though he did not know it, his stars in their courses were fighting
against him.

The moment the baize door had closed behind his late colleagues, he
made silently for the stairs.