"Clo sent you the papers! You're mistaken. I know she didn't send them," Beverley cried. She had forgotten her fear of being overheard, forgotten everything, but the sound of a door closing caused her to start. It was a strange sound just then, because both doors had already been shut when she went to the telephone, the door leading into her bedroom, the door into the hall, and she had heard neither open since. Yet she could not be mistaken. Somebody had closed one of those doors and must previously have opened it.
Sick with fear, Beverley dropped the receiver and ran to look into the hall. No one was there. She flew to the door of her bedroom and peeped in. The room was empty. She rang for Johnson, who appeared at once.
"Has Mr. Sands come in?" she asked.
"I think not, Madam," the butler replied.
"Go and see. Search everywhere."
She did not move while the man was away.
"Mr. Sands is not in the house, Madam," Johnson solemnly announced.
"Thank you!" Beverley said. Yet she was not relieved. Something told her that it was Roger who had shut the door.