THE YELLOW DOVE
ing him her lips or even her hand, moved slowly toward the door.
He reached it in a stride before her and put his hand upon the knob.
“There’s one thing more I’ve got to ask.”
Her look questioned.
“You must sleep in my room tonight, next to Betty’s. I shall sleep in yours.”
Her weary eyes sought his with an effort.
“You mean you think Rizzio—would still?”
She paused.
“Yes, he thinks you would not give them to me.” And then, with a laugh, “You wouldn’t, you know.”
“And if I tell him I have burned them”
“He will not believe you.”
“He would not believe me,” she repeated in a daze.
“You must do what I ask,” Cyril went on quietly. “I know what is best. I’ll arrange it with Betty.” He glanced at his watch. “One o’clock. By Jove! It’s time even for auction players.”
She promised him at last after a protest on his own account.
“Nothin’ to worry about,” he laughed. “They may not try anythin’, and when they find I’m there they’ll bundle out in a hurry.”
Thus reassured she went out to the drawing-room where the card players were just rising. Rizzio was nowhere to be seen. Cyril at once took their hostess aside and told her that Doris was a little upset by the shooting, asking if Betty would mind letting her take the room next to her own, so that she could open the door between.
“Don’t say anything about it, Betty,” he urged. “Just ask her in, won’t you, when you get upstairs.”
90
