McKeith had given him his last directions.

There was nothing now to wait for.

McKeith went slowly up the steps of the back veranda, and in at the French window of the sitting room, where Bridget had been watching, waiting.

At his appearance, she went back into the room.

She stood quite still, small, shadowy, the little bit of her face which showed between the folds of her motor veil, where it was tied down under her chin--very pale, and the eyes within their red, narrowed lids, dry and bright.
'Are you ready, Bridget ?' he asked.
'Yes.' He came close, and took a little bag she was holding out of her hands, carried it to the back veranda, and told one of the Chinamen to give it to Mr Ninnis--all, it seemed to her, to evade farewells.