"What was that?" She clutched his arm.
"I didn't see anything," answered Lionel.
CHAPTER XII
THE GRAY LADY
The shadowy form seen by Kate Clendennin near the conservatory was no phantom born of emotional excitement, but a flesh-and-blood creature, a keenly alert sentinel, stealthily waiting and watching for a specific and serious purpose.
For more than one of the dwellers at Ipping House this had been an important day. To Betty Thompson it had brought, the suddenly revealed glory of a deep love, to Lionel and Kate the first delicious whisperings of mutual passion and the pain of renunciation, to Horatio Merle it had brought humiliation and self-abasement, and to this poor, soul-stifled girl, Hester Storm, it had brought the opportunity to steal $25,000.
With her own eyes Hester had seen the purse; it was there in the golf bag, she had almost had it in her hands. Almost! If that tumble-haired, shifty-eyed chauffeur had kept away she would have had the money. And if Mrs. Baxter hadn't borrowed the golf bag, just at the wrong moment, she would have had it. Hard luck twice. Well, the third time would be different, and she would land the goods. In the whole world she was the only person who knew where this purse was, so all she had to do was to watch the golf bag and wait for another chance.
Through the long afternoon Hester watched and waited in Betty Thompson's chamber, showing an industry and zeal in her sewing that Betty thought most commendable. All this time the girl was eyeing the clock, wondering if, before she finished her work, Mrs. Baxter would return the golf bag. But no Mrs. Baxter appeared and at six o'clock she was obliged to go. Miss Thompson wished to dress for dinner and—no, she did not need a maid.
Hester walked slowly back to the lodge considering what her next move should be. Evidently she must act quickly or someone else might see the purse. Someone might already have seen it. Some caddy boy! Or Mrs. Baxter herself. There it lay, down among the clubs, quite unguarded except by the darkness in the bottom of the bag. Hester's hope lay in that little layer of darkness and in the unlikelihood that any one would search there.
What would Mrs. Baxter do with the golf bag after she had finished using it? She would naturally return it to Miss Thompson. She would return it this evening and Miss Thompson would naturally put it in her chamber, just where it was this afternoon, there in the corner by the dressing-table.