Mrs.Presty descended to the schoolroom on the first floor.
No.

Here again there was nothing to see but an empty room.
Where was Miss Westerfield?
Was it within the limits of probability that she had been bold enough to join the party in the smoking-room?
The bare idea was absurd.
In another minute, nevertheless, Mrs.Presty was at the door, listening.
The men's voices were loud: they were talking politics.

She peeped through the keyhole; the smokers had, beyond all doubt, been left to themselves.

If the house had not been full of guests, Mrs.Presty would now have raised an alarm.

As things were, the fear of a possible scandal which the family might have reason to regret forced her to act with caution.