“I know which it is, sir, quite well, and will empty it directly, so that you needn’t trouble to take it away.”
Doctor May was a man of quick penetration, and Mary’s manner seemed to him so suspicious that, although he would have been quite satisfied with her arrangement under ordinary circumstances, he resolved now to investigate the matter for himself.
Moving her aside, he placed his hand on the key of the door to turn it, when Mary, thinking she had done all that had been expected of her, vanished from the scene, leaving Miss Mordaunt to bear the brunt of her own imprudence, and explain things as best she could.
Miss Mordaunt knew that detection was inevitable, and would have been equal to the position even now if she had only been on her feet; but what was to become of her dignity while she crawled out of the cupboard? She felt that it was impossible to overcome such a disadvantage, so that when Doctor May threw open the door, and, looking full into her eyes, said softly, but imperiously: “Come out,” she gave all attention to her ankles, and left her dignity to take care of itself.
When she had lifted herself up, and was facing him, Doctor May looked at her with unconcealed astonishment. Although her hair and dress were disordered, and her face crimson, it was impossible to take her for anything but a gentlewoman, and if he had expected to find anybody it was a slim young waiter whom he had caught once in earnest conversation with Mary on the stairs.
A minute’s silence, and then Miss Mordaunt said quietly:
“I suppose I ought to explain, unless—unless you have already guessed.”
“I think I have,” answered Doctor May, with a smile. “But I am sorry you did not confide in me at once, as I would have made it possible for you to see him without hiding in the cupboard. Are you staying in this hotel?”
“Yes,” she replied, with some reluctance.
“What is the number of your room?”