He entered, and she closed the door.  So carefully that he did not hear it, she locked the door; no more than in Hannigan’s case did she want Barlow to come bungling into a scene before it had reached its climax.

All was now ready for the curtain to rise.  Quivering all through she waited for Barney Palmer, whose entrance was to open her drama.  She glanced at her wrist-watch which she had left upon the little lacquered writing-table.  Ten minutes of nine.  Ten more minutes to wait.  She felt far more of sickening suspense than ever did any young playwright on the opening night of his first play.  For she was more than merely playwright.  In her desperate, overwrought determination Maggie had assumed for herself the super-mortal role of dea ex machina.  And in those moments of tense waiting Maggie, who so feverishly loathed all she had been, was not at all sure whether she was going to succeed in her part of goddess from the machine.

At five minutes to nine there was a ring.  She gave a little jump at the sound.  That was Barney.  Though generally when Barney came he used the latch-key which his assumed dear cousinship, and the argued possibility of their being out and thus causing him to wait around in discomfort, Miss Grierson’s sense of propriety had unbent far enough to permit him to possess.  The truth was, of course, that Barney had desired the key so that he might have most private conferences with Maggie, at any time necessity demanded, without the stolidly conscientious Miss Grierson ever knowing what had happened and being therefore unable to give dangerous testimony.

Maggie crossed and opened the door.  But instead of Barney Palmer, it was Larry who stepped in.  He quickly closed the door behind him.

“Larry!” she cried startled.  “Why—­why, I thought the police had you!”

“They did.  But Hunt was with me, and he got hold of a magistrate who would have made Hunt a present of the Tombs and Police Headquarters if he had owned them.”

“Then you’re out on bail?”

“Got out about ten minutes ago.  Hunt didn’t have any property he could put up as security, so he ’phoned my grandmother.  She walked in with an armload of deeds.  Why, she must own as much property in New York as the Astor Estate.”

“Larry, I’m so glad!” And then, remembering what, according to her plan, was due to begin to happen almost any moment, she exclaimed in dismay:  “But, Larry, oh, why did you come here now!”

“I wanted to know—­you understand—­what you had decided to do after learning about your father.  And I wanted to tell you that, after all my great boasts to you, I seem to have failed in every boast.  Item one, the police have got me.  Item two, since the police have got me, my old pals will also most likely get me.  Item three, when I was arrested at Cedar Crest Miss Sherwood learned that I had known you all along and believes I was part of a conspiracy to clean out the family; so she chucked me—­and I’ve lost what I believed my big chance to make good.  So, you see, Maggie, it looks as if you were right when you predicted that I was going to fail in everything I said I was going to do.”