"It was here you found the letter?"
"Yes, sir."
"You persist in that farce?" I demanded, wheeling round upon her.
She did not answer, only stared back without flinching. I realised that here was a will not easily overcome.
"Very well," I said quietly at last, "I shall get along, then, in spite of you," and I returned to my inspection of the room.
There was a writing-desk in one corner, with pens, ink, and paper. I picked up a sheet of paper and looked at it; I dipped a pen in the ink and wrote a few words upon it; then I blotted it, folded it, and placed it in my pocket.
"Now we can go," I said, and switched off the light.
She led the way down the stairs without replying.
"My hat is in the library," I said, as we reached the foot, and I turned down the lower hall.
The library was even darker than the room upstairs had been, for the trees around the house seemed to shadow especially the windows of this wing. I noted how the windows extended to the floor and opened upon a little balcony. One of the windows was open, and I went to it and looked out. A flight of steps connected one end of the balcony with the ground, and I fancied from the steps I could discern a faint path running away among the trees.