“I won’t. Good night, Janet.”
“Good night, Mr. Lawson.”
Mrs. Lawson seemed lost in thought as they slowly mounted the stone stairs. Suddenly she began chattily: “Men are such stupid creatures, Janet. So stupid about taking medicine or anything else that may be good for them. Martin and that hot lemonade is a case in point. I hope that you haven’t any foolish ideas like that?”
“Oh, no, indeed. I’m rather fond of it.”
“That’s fine. Now promise me you’ll get into bed and drink it just as hot as possible. There’s nothing better to ward off a cold, and you’ll sleep like a top into the bargain. Well, here’s your room, my dear. It’s late, so I won’t come in, but I think you’ll find all you need to make you comfortable. If you want anything, ring. Good night, Janet. Sleep well.”
“I’m sure I will, Mrs. Lawson. Good night.”
The older woman passed along the gallery and Dorothy entered her bedroom. It was a good-sized room, attractively furnished with everywhere evidence of a woman’s taste. Pink-shaded electric candles gleamed from the walls papered in cream and scattered with tiny pink rosebuds. The small grey-painted bed displayed pink pillow cases, sheets and blankets. A dainty writing desk in one corner of the room was also painted grey as was the chaise longue and the chairs, where the upholstery carried out the note of pink. A soft grey rug, pink-bordered, covered the floor, and Dorothy’s feet sank into its thick, warm pile as she investigated her new quarters. She saw that the room was nearly square, and opposite the door a rounded alcove sheltered a bow window, hung with pink taffeta, and the window seat below it was cushioned in pink.
In a corner against the wall stood Janet’s wardrobe trunk, and near it was a door that led into a spacious closet. Dorothy hung her coat on a padded hanger, and then looked into the rose and onyx tiled bath.
As she re-entered the bedroom she stopped short in surprise. A small piece of white paper protruded from beneath the door to the gallery. Quickly she stooped, snatched the paper and opened the door. The gallery was empty. Crossing to the balustrade she looked down upon the great entrance hall. That also was deserted and nobody was to be seen on the staircase.
She turned back, closed and locked her door. Then she spread out the paper she had crumpled in her hand. Printed on one side in pencil she read the words: