“I am responsible for the contents of that note,” said Adelaide.
“But I wrote it,” added Winnie, “and I demand that it be read aloud.”
It seemed to me that Winnie was absolutely insane, and even Adelaide seemed to feel that there was no necessity of rushing so recklessly on the spears of the enemy.
Professor Waite looked completely mystified, and Madame said very seriously:
“You will see, Professor, that this note is directed to you, and that it has not been opened. I could not take that liberty; but Miss Noakes discovered it being sent in a very irregular manner, which justified her in confiscating it. There are other suspicious matters connected with it, which I trust its contents will fully explain.”
I felt that the crucial moment had arrived. Miss Noakes was absolutely radiant, and sat rubbing her hands with ghoulish glee. Madame looked troubled but judicial. The professor was a favourite of hers, but Miss Noakes had brought too weighty an accusation to be glossed over.
A silence like that before a thunder-clap reigned. Winnie covered her face with her handkerchief and shook—could it be with suppressed laughter? If so, it seemed to me that she must be going insane.
Professor Waite opened the letter and glanced over its contents. “This note is from Miss Winifred De Witt,” he said to Madame, “and since I have her permission, I will read it aloud.” And to our utter astonishment, Professor Waite read—not the indignant letter which Adelaide had dictated, but the following:
Professor Waite.
Dear Sir: May I have your permission to place my easel on the balcony in front of the corridor window and make a study of a sunrise effect as seen across the roofs? The view is so very beautiful that Miss Noakes spends much of her time there absorbed in its enjoyment.