long index finger he noiselessly tapped the panel.
"Delight Mainprize is in there with Bill," he breathed.
A peal of thunder drowned Mrs. Jessop's sharp exclamation but a lightning flash showed her face distorted with rage. Kirke was standing rigidly, his high shoulders hunched.
The housekeeper grasped the door-knob and wrenched open the door. Kirke backed into the shadow.
In the unshaded electric light Bastien and Delight turned and faced Mrs. Jessop. The three stared at each other, spellbound. Lightning blinked against the window glass, frustrated by the glare of the bulb beside the dressing-table. One roll of thunder followed steadily upon another.
Bastien's brow was black. He stood sullenly facing the housekeeper. She darted into the room and grasped the girl's wrist, her fingers digging into the flesh like claws.
"I'll have something to say to you, my girl," she said in a thick voice. "Now go to your room."
"Don't get worked up over nothing," said Bastien. "We weren't into any harm here."
"Shut up!" shouted Mrs. Jessop; then steadying herself, she added, brokenly—"Oh, Bill, you'd ought to be ashamed. Look—her dress is torn! Oh, you're a nice one, you are, Delight Mainprize! Get to your room and don't let me see your brazen face again."
"He didn't tear it, Mrs. Jessop," sobbed Delight, clutching the torn blouse on her shoulder.
"Don't lie to me. And get out of my sight or, by God, I'll tear your clothes for you! I'll tear them clean off your body and throw you into the street!"
A burst of thunder, like an explosion, engulfed them in its volume. Rain descended in a deluge. The electric
