Lying there, crouched and quivering, she began to count those hammering heart-beats, and wondered wildly if the man on the other side of the door could hear them also.  She was sure that he had been there, sure that he had been on the point of entering when she had shot the bolt.

He would not enter now, she whispered to her quaking heart.  She would not have to meet him before the morning.  And by then she would be strong.  It was only her weariness that made her so weak to-night!

She grew calmer.  She began to chide herself for her senseless panic—­she the bearer of other people’s burdens, who prided herself upon her steady nerve and calmness of purpose.  She had never been hysterical in her life before.  Surely she could muster self-control now, when her need of it was so urgent, so imperative.

And then, just as a certain measure of composure had returned to her, something happened.  Someone passed down the passage outside her room and paused at the outer door.  Her heart stood still, but again desperately she steadied herself.  That door was bolted also.

Yes, it was bolted, but there was a hand upon it,—­a hand that felt softly for the lock, found the key outside, softly turned it.

Then indeed panic came upon Avery.  Lying there, tense and listening, she heard the quiet step return along the passage and enter her husband’s room, heard that door also close and lock, and knew herself a prisoner.

“Avery!”

Every pulse leapt, every nerve shrank.  She started up, wide-eyed, desperate.

“I will talk to you in the morning, Piers,” she said, steadying her voice with difficulty.  “Not now!  Not now!”

“Open this door!” he said.

There was dear command in his voice, and with it the old magnetic force reached her, quick, insistent, vital.  She threw a wild look round, but only the dazzling moonlight met her eyes.  There was no escape for her—­no escape.

She turned her face to the door behind which he stood.  “Piers, please, not to-night!” she said beseechingly.

“Open the door!” he repeated inexorably.

Again that force reached her.  It was like an electric current suddenly injected into her veins.  Her whole body quivered in response.  Almost before she knew it, she had started to obey.

And then horror seized her—­a dread unutterable.  She stopped.

“Piers, will you promise—­”

“I promise nothing,” he said, in the same clear, imperious voice, “except to force this door unless you open it within five seconds.”

She stood in the moonlight, trembling, unnerved.  He did not sound like a man bereft of reason.  And yet—­and yet—­something in his voice appalled her.  Her strength was utterly gone.  She was just a weak, terrified woman.

“Avery,” his voice came to her again, short and stern, “I don’t wish to threaten you; but it will be better for us both if I don’t have to force the door.”