“Yes,” Mrs. Black was saying: “keep still about it for the present,—yes,—yes, I’ll do whatever you say,—but don’t come here tonight. You see it was an Italian—yes, I’ll meet you tomorrow at the same time and same place. No, don’t call me up,—when I can, I’ll call you.”
Hearing the click that told of the hanging up of the receiver Avice quickly stepped aside into an alcove of the hall, where she could not be seen.
But apparently, Mrs. Black had no thought of any one near her, for she turned off the library table light she had been using, and softly went upstairs. A low hall light was sufficient illumination for this, and Avice saw her go.
After waiting a few moments, the girl went into the library, and first closing the door, she switched on the light.
Taking up the telephone, she said to the operator, “Please tell me that number I just had. I can’t remember it, and I want to preserve it.”
Sleepily the girl responded, telling the number and exchange.
“Thank you,” said Avice, and hanging up the receiver she went to the desk and jotted down the number.
“Not that I have the least suspicion of Eleanor,” she said to herself, “but if I’m going to investigate, I mustn’t leave a stone unturned, especially anything so unusual as a midnight telephoning.”
And then Avice set herself to the task she had come for. But she found nothing definite or incriminating. There were some old and carefully preserved notes from men who were very evidently angry with her uncle, but they were not sufficiently strong to point to anything criminal. There was the usual collection of bills, business letters and memoranda, but nothing to interest or alarm her, and finally, growing wearied, she went back upstairs.
As she passed Mrs. Black’s door it softly opened, and the lady herself, wrapped in a kimono, looked out. Her long black hair hung in two braids, and her eyes were very bright.