Fyne and the girls were already at the gate.
All he understood was that everything was not over yet. There was no
time to lose; Mrs. Fyne and the girls had come in at the gate. He
whispered "Wait" with such authority (he was the son of Carleon Anthony,
the domestic autocrat) that it did arrest her for a moment, long enough
to hear him say that he could not be left like this to puzzle over her
nonsense all night. She was to slip down again into the garden later on,
as soon as she could do so without being heard. He would be there
waiting for her till--till daylight. She didn't think he could go to
sleep, did she? And she had better come, or--he broke off on an
unfinished threat.
She vanished into the unlighted cottage just as Mrs. Fyne came up to the
porch. Nervous, holding her breath in the darkness of the living-room,
she heard her best friend say: "You ought to have joined us, Roderick."
And then: "Have you seen Miss Smith anywhere?"
Flora shuddered, expecting Anthony to break out into betraying
imprecations on Miss Smith's head, and cause a painful and humiliating
explanation.
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