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In a second she had recovered, and had leapt out of bed. Better the known than the unknown. All fear had vanished; she would face Dorn and have the truth. Snatching up her dressing-gown, she went to the door, turned the key noiselessly and ran down the dark stairs.
The drawing-room faced her as she came on to the landing, and she did not hesitate, but flung open the door. The place was in darkness, and reaching out, she felt for the light switches and turned them. The room was empty; there was no sound save the musical ticking of a French clock on the mantelpiece, no sign of Michael Dorn or of his unknown companion. She gazed bewildered. Then she heard a noise behind her and spun round.