And then what? The Storm girl's face darkened and her hands shut tight. This was no time for trifling with fortune. The opportunity was hers now, this night, but it might be gone to-morrow. She must act at once. At once! Before she reached the lodge this decision had taken form vaguely in her mind, and, before she had finished her supper, it was clearly crystallized: she must do something before morning. Something! But what!
At a quarter before seven Hester heard the panting of an automobile near the lodge gate and, hurrying to the window, she watched Mrs. Baxter and Robert as they swept past in the big, closed car, the young man driving. Stare as she would the agitated girl was unable to catch sight of the golf bag, but she knew it was inside the car, it must be there; in a few moments it would be back in Ipping House, where she might get it—if she only could think how—later in the night.
Later in the night! That meant entering the big house secretly and lying in wait until she could make her search. She could look in the library, in the hall, in the hall closet under the stairs. That would be easy, but suppose the golf bag were not there? What if Mrs. Baxter had brought it to her own bedroom or to Miss Thompson's bedroom? Then what?
Hester finished her supper soon after seven and immediately went to her room—to be alone—to think. She felt impelled to do this thing, but she must plan every move with the utmost caution. No one, better than she, knew how dearly she might have to pay for one mistake.
At nine o'clock the girl stole softly out into the park. Old Mrs. Pottle had gone to bed early and the lodge was still. An Petronia, with her four beloved "Pottles" ranged beside her, was dreaming of "Reginal" and his misfortunes. Over the beeches and the dim, gray mass of the manor a purple darkness was settling and the little creatures of the night were pulsing their strange chorus. The air was warm and the girl went forth, bareheaded, gliding among the shadows like one of them. There were several small objects in her trunk that she might have taken to help her on this sinister expedition, several objects that she was impelled to take, but, on reflection, she left them behind, all but one.
For a long time Hester hovered about the manor watching the lights, listening to the sounds, rehearsing over and over again in her mind the details of the night's effort, as she thought it would work out. Mr. Baxter was in London. Mrs. Baxter had gone to her room, there was her light, burning brightly, one flight up under the gray stone tower. And there was Mr. Robert's light, two flights up over the far end of the conservatory. The golf bag would not be in his room, that was sure.
What about Miss Thompson? For nearly an hour her little chamber had been dark. She must have gone to bed early. Sound asleep by now. Hello! There goes Mr. Robert's light. And there sound the stable chimes. Ten o'clock! All dark downstairs except a light in the big front hall.
And now two dim figures approached across the lawn, Fitz-Brown and the Countess, and Hester shrank away among the shadows. Lionel took down a key from a nail outside the conservatory (where he often left it when he came in late) and, opening the door, bowed Kate in, then followed, closing the door, but quite forgetting to lock it. Thus fortune favored the young adventuress, as it had before many times.
With the illumination of a match held by Lionel, the tardy pair passed through the dark conservatory, then on through the library and out into the spacious hall, where each took a silver candlestick from a table where a row of these were placed in shining readiness every evening.
Very cautiously Hester opened the conservatory door and stepped inside, closing the door silently after her. Motionless, almost breathless, she listened as the others parted at the stairs. Queer lovers! Was that the best they could do?