“Then, perhaps, the stairs will creak,” interrupted Olivia, and without more delay she made, softly indeed but deliberately, for the front staircase.
“I can’t thank you enough for your kindness,” she whispered, when they both stood in the hall.
Mrs. Warmington shook her head with a drily amused smile.
“I had a motive,” she said. “I am too fond of my own comfort to put myself out of the way without one.”
“A motive!” echoed Olivia.
“Yes. I wanted to know you better, and I wanted you to know Mr. Brander better. Now nobody can deceive you about him, and nobody can deceive me about you.”
“Why, who would try?” asked Olivia.
“Nobody, perhaps. Good-bye.”
With one glance towards the open door of the front room, from which they both heard the sounds of a man’s tread, the housekeeper shook her guest’s hand, and, abruptly leaving her, disappeared into her own domain at the back of the house.
Olivia, who was highly offended at this discovery that she had been “managed” and made the victim of a little trick, walked to the front door with her head held high, and a firm intention of not even glancing in the direction of the study. But a sound inside the room, as she passed the door, broke her resolution, and she gave a swift glance that way. The look revealed Mr. Blander standing beside the black, empty fireplace. That was all. He saw her, and saw the proud turn of her head as she instantly averted her eyes. Then he heard the latch of the front door as her hands fumbled with it; he heard the door open, and shut again immediately, very softly. The next moment there was a hesitating step back across the hall, and the young girl’s face was looking into the dingy room.