Not Martha's nor that of the boy.

Nor that of the expressman who often sought Martha's apartment.
As it approached the landing, a sickening faintness assailed her.
She had heard that step before.
It was Felix! Her hour of trial had come! He would find the door ajar, stride into the room with that quiet, self-contained manner of his; and she must face him and stand ashamed! For a brief instant she wavered, her resolution of the morning, to throw herself at his feet, put to flight by a sense of some impending terror.
Should she spring forward and shut the door before he reached it, refusing to admit him until Martha came, or should she creep noiselessly into her room and lock herself in, remaining silent until he should leave the premises, believing no one at home?
While she stood, half paralyzed with fear, the door moved gently, almost stealthily, swinging back half its width, and a man in cape-coat, and slouch hat drawn dose over his eyes, stepped into the room.
Lady Barbara gave a piercing shriek, sprang from her seat, and staggered back, grasping a chair to keep her from falling.

"How dare you, Guy Dalton, to--" The intruder loosened the top button of his cape, watching, meanwhile, the terrified woman, and, with a sneer, said: "Oh, stop that, will you?
I've had enough of it.

You thought you could get away, did you?
Well, you can't, and the sooner you find that out the better for you." He glanced coolly around the room.

"So this is where you are, is it ?--a rotten hole, anyhow.