“‘So am I, I wish you would. And when your master has breakfasted, tell him I wish to be permitted to wait on him,’ I said to the girl, and I left the room for the tenth time, I do suppose, that day.”
“Well!” eagerly exclaimed Sybil.
“Well, madam, in less than an hour from that time, one of the waiters came to me with looks of alarm, and said that something must have happened in number 90, for that the lady’s maid had been knocking and calling loudly at the door for the last ten minutes without being able to make herself heard within.”
“Oh!” breathed Sybil, clasping her hands.
“Madam, I hurried to the spot. I joined my efforts to those of the terrified maid to arouse the sleepers within the chamber, but with no effect. The maid was almost crazy by this time, ma’am.”
“‘Oh, sir, are they murdered in their bed?’ she cried to me.
“‘Murdered? No, but something has happened, and we must force open the door, my good girl,’ I said by way of calming her. You may well judge, sir, that I did not send for a locksmith; but with a crowbar, hastily procured from below, I hoisted the door from its hangings and effected an entrance.”
“And then? And then?” breathlessly inquired Sybil, perceiving that the landlord paused for a moment.
“We found the room in the utmost confusion. Chests of drawers, clothes-presses, boxes, and so forth, stood wide open, with their contents scattered over the floor. We glanced at the bed, and the maid uttered a wild scream, and even I felt my blood run cold; for there lay the form of the lady, still, cold, pallid, livid, like that of a corpse many hours dead. No sign of Blondelle was to be seen about the chamber.”
“Oh! had he murdered her and fled?” gasped Sybil, with a half-suppressed hysterical sob.