"It was only the bedstead that creaked; old furniture will creak sometimes, you know," Edith replied.
"Well, I have been thinking that in case there should be any disturbance to-night, it would be nice—don't you think so?—for us to be together. It is not that I am nervous; but you have a cold, and you would be warmer here than in your own room, so I think you had better come and sleep with me."
"Very well, aunt, if you wish it; but I really do not think you need fear another disturbance. However, if you feel nervous—"
"I am not nervous, Edith; you mistake me quite, if you think that. It was only that I thought you, with your cold, would be better here."
"Oh, my cold is almost gone, so if that is all, I would rather sleep in my own room. Good-night, aunt. There is nothing to be afraid of now."
"I am aware of that, thank you. Good-night, Edith," said her aunt, in rather severe accents.
She followed her niece to the door, which she closed after her, and secured both by lock and bolt. Then casting a nervous glance round her, she began to take off her dress.
Whilst aunt and niece had been talking, Gus had been wriggling about in search of some loophole that would afford him a view into the room. None such presenting itself, he drew himself to the edge of the bed, and cautiously thrust out his head. Even so it was not easy to see, and his position was perilous in the extreme, as he tried to turn his head so as to get a look into the room.
By the time he had succeeded in so poising himself that he could see what was going on, the lady stood at her dressing-table, engaged in brushing her hair. In her young days, her abundant brown tresses had been much admired. They were no longer abundant, and their hue had faded, but their possessor, scarce conscious of the change Time had wrought, took pride in them still. She stood before her mirror regarding complacently the reflection it presented whilst she slowly brushed her hair. Every now and then she paused for a few moments of breathless listening; but no sound broke the stillness of the house, and gradually the fears that haunted her grew less insistent. At last, with a sigh, she laid down the brush, rolled her hair into a neat little knob at the back of her head, and then moved to the fireside to warm her feet before going to bed.
And now Gus became seriously uneasy. He was tired of lying in that close, cramped position; he could not remain there all night. Besides, he had grave misgivings as to how his position would be affected by the lady's getting into bed. Would her head rest less easily because he lay there behind the bolster? Would she be likely to discover his presence?