Once more she rested for a moment in his arms.  The seconds sped by.  Then he took a quick step backwards, and they both stared at the door.  It was closed now, but the slam of it a moment before had sounded like a pistol shot.

“Who was that?” she asked in a terrified whisper.

“That idiot of a boy with the key, I expect,” he replied.  “Wait, dear.”

He hurried outside, through the little hall and into the corridor.  There was no one in sight, not even the sound of footsteps to be heard.  He listened for a moment and then returned.

“Who was it?” she repeated.

“Nobody!”

“But some one must have looked in—­have seen us!”

“It may have been the outside door,” he suggested.

She shook her head.

“The door was closed.  I closed it behind me.”

“You mustn’t worry, dear,” he insisted.  “In all probability some one did look into the room by mistake, but it is very doubtful whether they would know who we were.  It may have been Sparks, my man, or the night valet, seeing a light here.  Remember what I told you a few minutes ago—­there is no trouble now which shall come near you.”

She smiled, already reassured.

“Of course, I am rather absurd,” she said, “but then look at me!  It is past one o’clock, and here am I in your rooms, with that terrible dressing case on the table, and without a hat, and still looking, I am afraid,” she concluded, with a final glance into the glass, “a little tumbled.”

“You look,” he told her fondly, “like a girl who has just realised for the first time in her life that she is loved.”

“How strange,” she laughed happily,—­“because that is exactly how I feel!”

There was a knock at the door.  A page entered, swinging a key in his hand.

“Key of 440 for the lady, sir,” he announced.

“Quite right, my boy.  Listen.  Did you meet any one in the corridor?”

“No one, sir.”

“You haven’t been in here before without knocking, have you?”

“No, sir,” was the prompt reply.  “I came straight up in the lift.”

Wingate turned to Josephine with a little shrug of the shoulders.

“The mystery, then, is insoluble,” he declared cheerfully, “but remember this, sweetheart,” he added, as the boy stepped discreetly outside, “in small things as well as large, the troubles of this world for you are ended.”

“You don’t know how wonderful it sounds to hear words like that,” she sighed, as they stood hand in hand.  “I shan’t seem very selfish, John, shall I, if I ask for a little time to realise all this?  I feel that everything I have and am ought to be yours at this moment, because you have made me so happy, because my heart is so full of gratitude.  But, alas, I have my weaknesses!  I am a very proud woman.  Sometimes I am afraid I have been a little censorious—­as regards others!”

He stooped and kissed her fingers.