"Thanks, but we can both look. I like to see." Bee turned to the latest page, and exclaimed in surprise—"Robert Royston!—Magda's brother—" and the last word remained only half-uttered, as her eyes fell upon the name following. A deep flush suffused her cheeks. Amy, glancing at the page and then, in dismay, at her face, knew in a moment that what she had half-jestingly surmised was true.
Bee's colour faded faster than it had arisen. She grew white to the lips as if on the verge of fainting.
"They were here—last night!" Her eyes met those of her companion. "Amy!—Did you know?"
"Of course I didn't know. How should I? We both felt sure there was nobody here except ourselves. I never dreamt of such a thing. But we talked so low—they couldn't have heard a word!"
"Oh, no—no! You called out—loudly!"
"Bee, I'm sure I didn't. It isn't my way. You are fancying. And the window would be shut—"
"They are English. It would be open."
"But they were sound asleep. Of course they were sound!" Amy was really grieved at Bee's pale distress. "Quite sound!"
"It is easy to say so! You do not know."
"But Peter told me they went to bed very early, on purpose to sleep. Yes, I asked him, because—just after you went in, I heard a snore. I didn't see any use in worrying you, but I did ask Peter, and he said there were two Herren in the loft, and they had gone off in the night. I wonder we didn't hear them go. But I heard the snore quite plainly."