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Page 11
"Madam," he replied, "I am afraid that it is your intention to ring
the bell."
"Of course it is," she admitted. "Don't dare to prevent me."
"Madam, I do not wish to prevent you," he assured her. "A few
moments' delay--that is all I plead for."
"Will you explain at once, sir," Philippa demanded, "what you mean
by forcing your way into my house in this extraordinary fashion, and
by locking that door?"
"I am most anxious to do so," was the prompt reply. "I am correct,
of course, in my first surmise that you are Lady Cranston--and you
Miss Fairclough?" he added, bowing ceremoniously to both of them.
"A very great pleasure! I recognised you both quite easily, you see,
from your descriptions."
"From our descriptions?" Philippa repeated.
The newcomer bowed.
"The descriptions, glowing, indeed, but by no means exaggerated,
of your brother Richard, Lady Cranston, and your fianc�, Miss
Fairclough."
"Richard?" Philippa almost shrieked.
"You have seen Dick?" Helen gasped.
The intruder dived in his pockets and produced two sealed envelopes.
He handed one each simultaneously to Helen and to Philippa.
"My letters of introduction," he explained, with a little sigh of
relief. "I trust that during their perusal you will invite me to
have some tea. I am almost starving."
The two women hastened towards the lamp.
"One moment, I beg," their visitor interposed. "I have established,
I trust, my credentials. May I remind you that I was compelled to
ensure the safety of these few minutes' conversation with you, by
locking that door. Are you likely to be disturbed?"
"No, no! No chance at all," Philippa assured him.
"If we are, we'll explain," Helen promised.
"In that case," the intruder begged, "perhaps you will excuse me."
He moved towards the door and softly turned the key, then he drew
the curtains carefully across the French windows. Afterwards he
made his way towards the tea-table. A little throbbing cry had
broken from Helen's lips.
"Philippa," she exclaimed, "it's from Dick! It's Dick's handwriting!"
Philippa's reply was incoherent. She was tearing open her own
envelope. With a well-satisfied smile, the bearer of these
communications seized a sandwich in one hand and poured himself out
some tea with the other. He ate and drank with the restraint of
good-breeding, but with a voracity which gave point to his plea of
starvation. A few yards away, the breathless silence between the
two women had given place to an almost hysterical series of
disjointed exclamations.
"It's from Dick!" Helen repeated. "It's his own dear handwriting.
How shaky it is! He's alive and well, Philippa, and he's found a
friend."
"I know--I know," Philippa murmured tremulously. "Our parcels have
been discovered, and he got them all at once. Just fancy, Helen,
he's really not so ill, after all!"
They drew a little closer together.
"You read yours out first," Helen proposed, "and then I'll read mine."
Philippa nodded. Her voice here and there was a little uncertain.
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