“I say, Hilda,” he said, over his shoulder, “if you want to do Chris a good turn, tell that beastly cad behind you to go.  I shan’t let him in, anyhow, not if he stays till doomsday.  So he may as well clear out at once.”

“My dear Noel, how can you be so absurd?” Hilda’s placid tones held real annoyance for once.

But the cause of it was quite unimpressed.

“Your dear Noel is acting up to his lights,” he returned, “and he has no intention of doing anything else, absurd or otherwise.  Chris is nearly scared out of her wits, so you had better take my advice sharp.”

This last information took instant effect upon Hilda.  She turned her attention to Chris forthwith.

“My dear, do let me in!  There is nothing whatever to frighten you.  I promise you shall not be frightened.  Chris, tell that absurd boy to open the door—­please, dearest!”

“I—­can’t!” gasped Chris.

“She isn’t going to,” said Noel.  “You run along, Hilda.  And you can tell Trevor with my love that if he’ll clear out now I’ll meet him at any time and place he likes to mention and have a damned old row.”

“Very good of you!” Another voice spoke on the other side of the door, and Noel jumped in spite of himself.  “But at the present moment you don’t count.  Is Chris there?  I want to speak to her.”

The leisurely tones came, measured and distinct, through the closed door, and Chris covered her face and shivered.  “Oh, you’ll have to let him in!” she said.  “Only—­don’t go away!  Don’t leave me alone with him!”

“Chris!” Mordaunt’s voice, calm and unhurried, addressed her directly.  “Jack is here with me.  Will you let us in?”

Chris lifted a haggard face.  “Open the door, Noel!” she said.

“Why?” demanded Noel, with sudden ferocity.  “We are not going to knock under to him.  Why should we?”

“It’s no use,” she said.  “We can’t help it.  Besides—­besides—­” She broke off with something like a sob, and rose from the sofa.

Noel looked at her under drawn brows.  “You really mean it?”

“Yes.”  She pushed the hair from her forehead, and made a great effort to still her agitation.  “I do mean it, Noel.  I—­wish it.”

“All right.”  The boy whizzed round and turned the key.

He met Mordaunt face to face on the threshold with clenched hands, his face dark with passion.  “If you hurt her—­I’ll kill you!” he said.

Had Mordaunt laughed at him, he would probably have attempted to carry out his threat then and there, for his mood was tempestuous.  But the quiet eyes that met his blazing ones held no derision.  They went beyond him instantly, seeking the girlish figure that leaned against the sofa-head for support; but a hand grasped his shoulder at the same moment and turned him back into the room.

“I shan’t quarrel with you on that account,” Mordaunt said.  “You can stay if you like, and satisfy yourself.”