Mr.Sieppe preceded them into the hall, moving at a funereal pace.

He paused.

Suddenly, in the direction of the sitting-room, came the strains of the parlor melodeon.
Mr.Sieppe flung his arm in the air.
"Vowaarts!" he cried.
He left them at the door of the sitting-room, he himself going into the bedroom where Trina was waiting, entering by the hall door.

He was in a tremendous state of nervous tension, fearful lest something should go wrong.

He had employed the period of waiting in going through his part for the fiftieth time, repeating what he had to say in a low voice.