“I’ll make them sorry for this,” he said vindictively, his face flushing darkly as he spoke. “I’ll teach that old scoundrel Brian to let Moll come up here frightening you! You look as white as a sheet this minute.”
“I am sure I am nothing of the kind,” I answered, trying unsuccessfully to look at myself in the silver teapot; “there is nothing the matter with me. If you will fasten up that little door into the other room before this evening, I shall be perfectly happy.”
“Never fear but I will,” he said; “and it’ll be very queer if I don’t fasten up that old hag too.”
He stalked out of the room. I heard him go upstairs and along the corridor, and presently the noise of hammering echoed through the house.
I met him in the hall soon afterwards, putting on his cap to go out.
“I fixed that door the way it won’t be opened again in a hurry,” he said, with grim satisfaction, “and I’ve locked the other; and now I’m going to be off to fix Moll herself. She’s not such a fool but she’ll understand what I’m going to say to her!”
“I wonder what the attraction in that room was for her?” I said. “I have seen her in there several times.”
“Goodness knows! There was nothing in it, only an old broken chair she had by the window, and there were a couple of books on the floor that I suppose she stole out of the study to play with. One looked like an old diary, or account-book, or something. I meant to bring it to show you, but I left it in my room with the hammer and nails.”
“I am very much obliged to you for shutting up that door,” I said, with sincere gratitude. “I had no idea you were going to do it for me at once. You are a most reliable person.”
He had taken his stick out of the stand, and had opened the hall door; but he stopped and looked back at me.