She managed them at last, closed the doors and turned the key and stood leaning against them, breathing quickly as though she had been running.
At least it would give her a pause, a moment’s pause before discovery, in which to—wake up. She tried to laugh. The collection was all right really—quite all right.... That was why there was really no use in waiting for Justin.... What if she went away quietly, at once, on tiptoe?... Nobody had seen her come.... Nobody would ever guess that she had touched anything.... She was the last person who would be suspected.... The cat ... a careless maid ... some one who owed Justin a grudge.... There would be talk and marvelling.... Justin would rage.... But they would never find out....
Besides, it was only nightmare.... She would have waked before they suspected....
What was that? That creaking stair? Justin? Not Justin?... Her feet had already carried her to the door, but at that sound she slipped back into her chair, white, speechless, waiting. But it was only the maid, restoring a waste-paper basket.
She was instantly Miss Valentine, controlled, smiling.
“Thank you, Mary. Oh, Mary, is Mr. Justin in?”
The maid thought so, Miss—had seen him crossing the lawn just now: and so departed, shutting the door, fastening the cage, upon a trapped creature. No escape now!... The maid had seen her, sitting in Justin’s room.... No chance of an alibi.... Besides, Justin might come up at any moment now....
She sat a long while, waiting for him to come.
She was asked once—how long? an hour? half an hour? ten minutes? She said painfully——She didn’t know. A long while.
But if you consider that Justin had appointed twelve o’clock, that he was a punctual man, and that he came in at last mopping his forehead and complaining of the noon heat, it cannot have been long. Half an hour, perhaps? Yet she had sat so still that when he came her cramped limbs at first refused to stir, and she stayed where she was, helplessly, staring at him, till he, missing the greeting and the bustle that was his due, turned to her with a vague notion that something must be wrong.