Even if I had tried to prevent her it would have been too late.  With a swift movement she flung back the door, and stepped forward across the threshold.

Joyce was standing about fifteen yards away, facing the hut.  She had evidently just heard the sound of Sonia’s voice, and had pulled up abruptly, as I expected she would.  Directly the door opened, she turned as if to continue her walk.

Sonia laughed again.  “Please don’t go away,” she said.

There was a moment’s pause, and then I too advanced to the door.  I saw that there was nothing else for it except the truth.

“Joyce,” I said, “this is Sonia.  She has just read your letter, which I left lying on the desk.”

It must have been a bewildering situation even to such a quick-witted person as Joyce, but all the same one would never have guessed the fact from her manner.  For perhaps a second she stood still, looking from one to the other of us; then, with that sudden engaging smile of hers, she came forward and held out her hand to Sonia.

“I am so glad to meet you,” she said simply.  “Neil has told me how good you have been to him.”

Sonia remained quite motionless.  She had drawn herself up to her full height, and she stared at Joyce with a cool hatred she made no attempt to conceal.

“Yes,” she said; “I have no doubt he told you that.  He will have a lot more to tell you as soon as I’ve gone.  You will have plenty to talk about when you’re not kissing.”  With a low, cruel little laugh she stepped forward.  “Make the most of him while you’ve got him,” she added.  “It won’t be for long.”

As the last word left her lips, she suddenly raised the glove she was holding in her hand, and struck Joyce fiercely across the face.

In one stride I was up with them—­God knows what I meant to do—­but, thrusting out her arm, Joyce motioned me back.

“It’s all right, Neil dear,” she said.  “I should have done exactly the same.”

For a moment we all three remained just as we were, and then without a word Sonia turned on her heel and walked off rapidly in the direction of the Tilbury road.

CHAPTER XXII

THE POLICE TAKE ACTION

“What have we done, Neil?”

Joyce put the question with a calmness that was truly delightful.

“It seems to me,” I said, “that we’ve torn it badly.”  Then, with a last look at Sonia’s retreating figure, I added:  “Come inside, and I’ll try to explain.”

We entered the hut, where the floor was still strewn with the fragments of Joyce’s letter.  She seated herself on the edge of the bed and waited patiently while I took a couple of turns up and down the room.

“Joyce,” I said, “I deserve kicking.  I’m not sure I haven’t messed up the whole business.”

“Tell me,” she said quietly.  “I know about Latimer already; I saw Tommy at the flat this morning.”