For a space Chilcote stood in the doorway staring at him; then his lips parted and he took a step forward.  “Loder—­” he said, anxiously.  “Loder, what are you going to do?”

Loder turned.  His shoulders were stiff, his face alight with energy.  “I’m going back,” he said, “to unravel the tangle you have made.”

XXVIII

Loder’s plan of action was arrived at before he reached Trafalgar Square.  The facts of the case were simple.  Chilcote had left an incriminating telegram on the bureau in the morning-room at Grosvenor Square; by an unlucky chance Lillian Astrupp had been shown up into that room, where she had remained alone until the moment that Eve, either by request or by accident, had found her there.  The facts resolved themselves into one question.  What use had Lillian made of those solitary moments?  Without deviation, Loder’s mind turned towards one answer.  Lillian was not the woman to lose an opportunity, whether the space at her command were long or short.  True, Eve too had been alone in the room, while Chilcote had accompanied Lillian to the door; but of this he made small account.  Eve had been there, but Lillian had been there first.  Judging by precedent, by personal character, by all human probability, it was not to be supposed that anything would have been left for the second comer.

So convinced was he that, reaching Trafalgar Square, he stopped and hailed a hansom.

“Cadogan Gardens!” he called.  “No. 33.”

The moments seemed very few before the cab drew up beside the curb and he caught his second glimpse of the enamelled door with its silver fittings.  The white and silver gleamed in the sunshine; banks of cream colored hyacinths clustered on the window-sills, filling the clear air with a warm and fragrant scent.  With that strange sensation of having lived through the scene before, Loder left the cab and walked up the steps.  Instantly he pressed the bell the door was opened by Lillian’s discreet, deferential man-servant.

“Is Lady Astrupp at home?” he asked.

The man looked thoughtful.  “Her ladyship lunched at home, sir—­” he began, cautiously.

But Loder interrupted him.  “Ask her to see me,” he said, laconically.

The servant expressed no surprise.  His only comment was to throw the door wide.

“If you’ll wait in the white room, sir,” he said, “I’ll inform her ladyship.”  Chilcote was evidently a frequent and a favored visitor.

In this manner Loder for the second time entered the house so unfamiliar—­and yet so familiar in all that it suggested.  Entering the drawing-room, he had leisure to look about him.  It was a beautiful room, large and lofty; luxury was evident on every hand, but it was not the luxury that palls or offends.  Each object was graceful, and possessed its own intrinsic value.  The atmosphere was too effeminate to appeal to him, but he acknowledged the taste and artistic delicacy it conveyed.  Almost at the moment of acknowledgment the door opened to admit Lillian.