“Yes,” she said in a low tone. “What is it?”

At the moment it did not strike her as strange that Boris should be throwing gravel at her window at this hour of the night.

“What is it?” she repeated impatiently.

“I come from the Master,” said Boris in a low tone which nevertheless carried perfectly. “He has sent for you.”

He made the statement in a perfectly matter-of-fact tone.

“Sent for me?”

“Yes, I am to bring you to him. There is a note. I will throw it up to you.”

Virginia stood back a little, and a slip of paper, weighted with a stone, fell accurately at her feet. She unfolded it and read: