She knew that she must have dozed, for without warning a light appeared, a golden circle on the center of the rug. Instantly she was wide awake and her hand beneath the blankets drew her throwing knife from its sheath. Through half-closed eyelids she made out a dark figure holding a flash light pointed toward the floor.
Then the glowing circle moved to the empty glass beside her bed, and Dorothy closed her eyes. For a moment it rested upon her face and she heard a low chuckle. Dorothy knew that voice. Her visitor was Laura Lawson.
The light swept away from her face. Mrs. Lawson touched the wall switch by the door and the bedroom sprang into light. The drug in the lemonade must have been a strong one, for it was evident that the intruder had no fear of her awakening. Without wasting another glance on Dorothy, Laura Lawson went to the wardrobe trunk and commenced a detailed inspection of its contents.
The woman’s back was turned, so Dorothy had no difficulty in watching her movements. Everything in the trunk was taken out, glanced at and put back exactly as it had been. This took some time, and it was fully half an hour before her hostess finished with the trunk. Next she overhauled the small travelling bag and the purse. Then the empty drawers of the dressing table and desk came under the woman’s eye. The pillows and cushions of the window seat were lifted. The rug was turned back. Every nook and cranny of the room and closet came under observation. Then she went into the bathroom.
“What under the shining canopy can she be looking for?” Dorothy marveled. “It can’t be the note I got tonight. She proposed the lemonade before that could have been written. I wonder if she’ll search the bed? She mustn’t find Flash—”
When Laura Lawson returned to the bedroom, she saw that the sleeper had turned over and was now facing the wall. For a moment she gazed down on the girl, then her hand crept under the pillow. Finding nothing there, the covers were pulled back to the foot of the bed.
Dorothy felt the cold breeze from the open window blowing on her pajamaed body, but she did not move. Presently sheet, blankets and silk comfort were replaced and the woman left the bedside. Dorothy chuckled inwardly. Flash was still safe. She was lying on him.
Off went the light. Dorothy knew that Mrs. Lawson’s slippered feet would make no sound on the thick pile of the rug. She waited to hear the door open and close, but heard nothing. With her face to the wall, she could see nothing. The strain of lying motionless became nerve wracking. What was the woman doing anyhow? Slowly she rolled over again. So far as she could tell, the room was empty.
For what seemed an age Dorothy lay, listening. Except for the wind sighing through the bare trees outside her window, there was no other sound. She felt nervous and unpleasantly excited. She must know if the door had been left unlocked. Slipping out of bed she tiptoed across to it and tried the handle. The door did not give.
Suddenly she froze against the panels. A dim glow appeared on the opposite wall as the closet door swung slowly back, and outlined in the opening was the tall figure of Tunbridge.