But all things come to an end if one waits long enough, and Melanie at length made her last trip into the dining-room. Virginie heard her retreating footsteps in the direction of the kitchen with a sigh of unutterable relief. Her one terror now was lest Madame might call to her to come upstairs and fan her and read aloud to her, as she frequently did when the mood took her. Besides being an utterly repugnant task, it would in this case put an end to every thought of escape, according to her prearranged plan with the two waiting in the woods. If she could only get away before that happened, all would be well!
The kitchen door closed at last. Virginie gathered all her courage and tiptoed through the dining-room and on into the living-room beyond. Her knees shook so that she could scarcely walk, and a mist seemed to float before her eyes. She felt sure that her pounding heart could be heard by Madame herself in the room above.
The desk stood in a big bay window, and was closed, but not locked. Virginie pulled open the drawer, which gave with a resisting squeak, so loud that her very heart stood still at the appalling sound. She stood motionless for what seemed an hour, but nothing happened and she gradually came to the conclusion that the sound must have passed unnoticed. Then she bent to look at the contents of the drawer.
The Crimson Patch was not there! At least, it was nowhere to be seen on the top. But the drawer was in some confusion, for Madame was by no means a methodical person. Virginie ventured to put in her hand and push the papers about. Could it be?—yes, it must be, that Madame had taken the sketch away, for it was nowhere to be found. Virginie could have wept as she stood there, with the terrible disappointment of it all.
Melanie stood in the doorway surveying her with stern surprise
But suddenly her heart gave a leap, for her searching fingers had come in contact with something that felt familiar, far down at the bottom of the drawer. It was the heavy watercolor paper that she remembered so well. Madame, indolent with the desire for her afternoon sleep and reluctant at the moment to go to the trouble of locking away her treasure, had carelessly tucked it away in a far corner of the drawer under a mass of bills and other papers. With a great sigh of joy, Virginie drew out the Crimson Patch.
An instant after she had done so, a slight sound behind her caused her to whirl about in sudden alarm.
Melanie stood in the doorway between the portières, surveying her with stern surprise.