She mechanically took up her pen; she found herself beginning to remember her letter to Julian Gray.
At the same moment the footsteps stopped outside her door.

The man knocked.
She still felt shaken.

She was hardly mistress of herself yet.

A faint cry of alarm escaped her at the sound of the knock.

Before it could be repeated she had rallied her courage, and had opened the door.
The man in the corridor was Horace Holmcroft.
His ruddy complexion had turned pale.