"Won't you wait for me just a moment, Miss Clara, while I step into the office? I'll be with you in an instant."
Clara hesitated.
"Oh, certainly," she replied nonchalantly.
Ellis went direct to the bell-boy. "Sit right where you are," he said, "and don't move a hair. What is the lady in the hall doing?"
"She's got her back tu'ned this way, suh. I 'spec' she's lookin' at the picture on the opposite wall, suh."
"All right," whispered Ellis, pressing a coin into the servant's hand. "I'm going up to the parlor with the lady. You go up ahead of us, and keep in front of us along the hall. Don't dare to look back. I shall keep on talking to the lady, so that you can tell by my voice where we are. When you get to room 256, go in and shut the door behind you: pretend that you were called,—ask the gentlemen what they want,—tell any kind of a lie you like,—but keep the door shut until you're sure we've got by. Do you hear?"
"Yes, suh," replied the negro intelligently.
The plan worked without a hitch. Ellis talked steadily, about the hotel, the furnishings, all sorts of irrelevant subjects, to which Miss Pemberton paid little attention. She was angry with Delamere, and took no pains to conceal her feelings. The bell-boy entered room 256 just before they reached the door. Ellis had heard loud talking as they approached, and as they were passing there was a crash of broken glass, as though some object had been thrown at the door.
"What is the matter there?" exclaimed Clara, quickening her footsteps and instinctively drawing closer to Ellis.
"Some one dropped a glass, I presume," replied Ellis calmly.