"Oh, aren't there any?
I'll get you some," she said with automatic politeness, and departed to search for them.
The Doctor watched her go--saw the door close behind her.

Instantly his face set into tense and wary lines.

He glanced about--then ran lightly into the alcove and noiselessly unfastened the bolt on the terrace door which he had pretended to fasten after his search of the shrubbery.

When Dale returned with the matches, he was back where he had been when she had left him, glancing at a magazine on the table.
He thanked her urbanely as she offered him the box.

"So sorry to trouble you--but tobacco is the one drug every Doctor forbids his patients and prescribes for himself." Dale smiled at the little joke.