“Stay, please,” and a shrewd glance was thrown toward her.
An indicative glance it was, too,—though it was not meant to be. But Patty’s quick wits told her that he wished her to remain, hoping she would by some involuntary glance, disclose the hiding-place.
This gave her new courage, and she determined to look anywhere save toward the old album that held the papers. If he should find them, she would defend them with her life, if need be, she thought. But if they were not discovered the victory was hers. She was convinced now that this was no emissary of Farnsworth’s. Had he been, he would have gone back for further instructions, before he made such desperate search.
Moreover, his attitude would have been confidential and persuasive,—not belligerent and domineering.
So she watched him, a little amused smile on her face, that gave no hint of her perturbation of spirit.
She carefully let her eyes follow the directions taken by his own, but never by any chance led him to a fresh field of search.
Frequently he looked up quickly, hoping to catch her gaze straying to the real hiding-place, but Patty was too canny for that.
Once or twice she allowed him to intercept a furtive glance, carefully turned in the wrong direction, and her look of embarrassment led him to turn his attention that way.
But all to no purpose. He looked everywhere, as he supposed, where the packet could have been hidden. He even moved the books on the side table, taking up the album itself, and laying it down again, assuming that the thick packet could not be between the leaves of any book.
And now came Patty’s supreme test of nerve and poise.