“Since we are doomed anyhow ... after this night’s work,” said the woman sullenly.

“Nay! but why should you take so gloomy a view of the situation? ...  My Lord Protector hath forgot our existence by now, believe me ... and of a surety his patrol hath not yet knocked at our door....  And methinks, mistress,” added Editha significantly, “’tis not in your interest to quarrel with me.”

“I have no wish to quarrel with you,” quoth Mistress Endicott, who apparently had come to the end of her resistance, and no doubt had known all along that her fortunes were too much bound up with those of Mistress de Chavasse to allow of a rupture between them.

“Then everything is vastly satisfactory,” said Editha with forced gayety.  “I rely on you, mistress, and on Endicott’s undoubted talents to bring this last matter to a successful issue to-night. ...  Remember, mistress ...  I rely on you.”

Perhaps Mistress Endicott would have liked to prolong the argument.  As a matter of fact, neither she nor her husband counted the risks of a midnight fracas of great moment to themselves:  they had so very little to lose.  A precarious existence based on illicit deeds of all sorts had rendered them hard and reckless.

All they wished was to be well paid for the risks they ran; neither of them was wholly unacquainted with the pillory, and it held no great terrors for them.  There were so many unavowable pleasures these days, which required a human cloak to cover the identity of the real transgressor, that people like Master and Mistress Endicott prospered vastly.

The case of Mistress de Chavasse’s London house wherein the ex-actress had some few years ago established a gaming club, together with its various emoluments attached thereunto, suited the Endicotts’ requirements to perfection:  but the woman desired an increase of payment for the special risk she would run to-night, and was sorely vexed that she could not succeed in intimidating Editha with threats of vigilance-patrol and whipping-posts.

Mistress de Chavasse knew full well that the Endicotts did not intend to quarrel with her, and having threatened rupture unless her commands were obeyed, she had no wish to argue the matter further with her henchwoman.

At that moment, too, there came the sound of significant and methodical rappings at the door.  Editha, who had persistently throughout her discussion with Mistress Endicott, kept one ear open for that sound, heard it even through the buzz of talk.  She made a scarcely visible gesture of the hand, bidding the other woman to follow her:  that gesture was quickly followed by a look of command.

Mistress Endicott presumably had finally made up her mind to obey.  She shrugged her fat shoulders and followed Mistress de Chavasse as far as the center of the room.

“Remember that you are the hostess now,” murmured Editha to her, as she herself went to the door and opened it.