Mrs. Varney walked over to the window and drew back the curtains. She stood for a moment looking out into the clear, peaceful quietness of a soft spring night. The moon was full, and being somewhat low shone through the long windows and into the room, the candle light not being bright enough to dim its radiance. Her task being completed, she turned, and once more the man who was in command pointed across the hall toward the room on the other side.
“Are those women in there yet?” he asked peremptorily.
“Yes.”
“Where is the key?”
Mrs. Varney left the room and went to the door.
“It is on this side,” she said.
“Will you lock it, please?”
The woman softly turned the key in the lock, and returned to the drawing-room without a sound. As she did so the noise of the opening of one of the long French windows in the front of the room attracted the attention of both of them. Edith Varney entered the room nervously and stepped forward. She began breathlessly, in a low, feverishly excited voice.
“Mamma!”
Mrs. Varney hurried toward her and caught her outstretched hand.