"I don't know, my lord. I didn't wait to look," said Jenkins in a hushed voice.
Heyton went into the dressing-room and returned a moment later.
"If there was anything of value in the safe, it's gone," he said. "Look here!—Here, you, Simcox, what the devil are you gaping there for, like a stuck pig; why don't you send for the police?"
Simcox turned to fly, and almost ran into Mrs. Dexter, who was followed by Celia. Strangely enough Mrs. Dexter had been almost the last to hear of the calamity; a terrified servant had dashed into her room with the awful news. Celia's room was next to Mrs. Dexter's and she had heard Mrs. Dexter's cry of horror, and had darted out to learn what it meant. Mrs. Dexter went to the bed, gently and unconsciously putting Miriam aside, and bent over the motionless form.
"He is not dead," she said, in a whisper.
"Oh, thank God!" broke from Miriam's white lips, and she turned to Celia and grasped her arm. "Oh, I'm glad you've come; I'm glad you are here!" she sobbed. "I'm all alone—oh, I'm glad you are here! Do you think he is not dead?"
"Mrs. Dexter will know," said Celia, trying to control her voice. "Don't be frightened, don't get worried, Lady Heyton. Come with me!"
She took Miriam's hand and drew her into her bedroom. Miriam sank on the bed and covered her face with her hands; and for a while, there was silence; for Celia had no words at command. Presently Miriam dropped her hands from her face and looked straight before her; there was something worse than horror in her expression; there was a poignant, a vivid terror.
Celia found some eau-de-Cologne and bathed Miriam's forehead.
"You won't faint, Lady Heyton?" she said. "They will need you—you must try to bear up. He is not dead——"