“I am beginning to get frightened,” Pauline added. “What can it mean? All the servants gone——”
CHAPTER XXVI—The Empty Bedroom
Within the bungalow of the Ilams there remained only two persons who were legally entitled to be there, and those persons were Mrs. Ilam, motionless for ever, but with her bright, tragic eyes staring continually at the same point in the ceiling, and Rosie Dartmouth. These two women, however, were decidedly not alone in the house. It was a large house, a bungalow more by the character of its architecture and its many balconies, than by its size and shape. Most bungalows are long and low; this one was long without being low. On the ground floor were the reception rooms and kitchen offices; on the first floor were the principal bedrooms; and above these was a low-ceiled floor of servants’ bedrooms. Nor was that all; for the steeply-sloping roof had been utilized by an architect who hated to waste space as a miser hates to waste money, and hence, above even the servants’ floor was a vast attic, serviceable for storage. The attic was reached by a little flight of stairs of its own, and it was lighted by two panes of glass let into the roof, one on either side.
The ground-floor and the servants’ floor were now dark and uninhabited. On the first floor the only occupied room was the bedchamber of Mrs. Ilam, where Rosie stood nervously by the mantelpiece in an attitude of uneasy expectation. The sole illumination was given by the small rose-shaded lamp, which threw a circle of light on the white cloth of the invalid’s night-table; all else, including Rosie, was in gloom.
Rosie was evidently listening—the door was ajar—and after a few moments she stepped hastily outside on to the landing, and glanced up the well of the staircase. At the summit of the staircase she saw the door of the great attic open, and a figure emerge; the figure, which was carrying a small electric lantern, carefully locked the door of the attic behind it, and then, with some deliberation, descended the narrow attic stairs, and, more quietly, the stairs from the servants’ floor to the first floor.
The figure was that of Mr. Jetsam, clothed in his eternal suit of blue serge.
The stairs and landing were quite dark, save for his lantern and the faint glimmer that came from Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom. Mr. Jetsam had moved without a sound, for he was wearing thick felt slippers. He did not immediately notice Rosie on the landing, and when the light of his lantern caught and showed her dress, he started back slightly. Rosie made no move.
“I did not expect you to be there,” he whispered.