It was ten o’clock when I telephoned her. With Tony still in the library I had to call her from my room, which meant that anyone lifting a receiver could hear me. But I was obliged to take the chance and I was as noncommittal as possible.

“I want to see you,” I said. “Tonight if I can. Are you alone? Just say yes or no.”

“No.”

“Can you slip out by the pool and meet me? Say in half an hour.”

“Not very well. I’m sorry, Pat.”

“In an hour?”

“I don’t know.”

“Listen, Margery,” I said. “It’s important. I can’t tell you how important. You must do it.”

There was a short silence. Then: “I’ll try,” she said in a different and strained voice. “I haven’t been going out much, but if you want me—at five tomorrow? All right. Thanks.”

By which I judged that Julian was in the room with her.

It was a quarter to eleven when I heard Tony come upstairs and go into his room, and Reynolds closing the house for the night. It seemed to take him a long time, but at last I managed to get to the lower floor. Even at that I had forgotten O’Brien, and I only escaped him by ducking into a coat closet in the west hall. I was pretty well shattered by that time, but I dare say the closet saved my life that night. A white coat of mine from the summer was still hanging there, and I put it on.

Luckily for me, Roger had taken to making rounds with O’Brien at night. He sniffed a moment at the closet and then went on. Yet I did not get away without further difficulty.

The garage was still open, with no one about; but when I started my motor Gus suddenly appeared, his square honest face looking concerned.

“If you’re going out I’d better go with you, miss,” he said. “Mr. Wainwright wouldn’t like your going alone.”

“I have an errand, Gus. I won’t be long.”

“I haven’t got anything else to do,” he said stubbornly. “Mr. Tony’s given orders—”

“Mr. Wainwright doesn’t give me orders, outside of my work,” I said sharply, and started the car.

I was shaking again as I went down the drive. I had no idea how to tell Margery what I knew. I must have been frightened too, after that warning of Tony’s. I remember the huge dark hulk of the house, and the long unlighted drive, curving among its dead trees, with every clump of evergreens a possible ambush. But when I reached it the highway was cheerful, with cars coming and going, and by the time I got to the Stoddard place I was calm enough.

I left the car in the drive inside the gate and walked to the pool. Margery was not there, and I waited for some time on a cold marble bench before she appeared.

“What is it, Pat?” she said. “You sounded so strange over the telephone.”