"I don't understand——"
Piquette shrugged. "Try again den, Jeem 'Orton."
He did—to no avail. There was now no sound from within in reply to his more earnest entreaties.
"Something must have happened to her," he mumbled straightening, with a glance toward the bed. "If I thought——"
"But no," Piquette broke in quickly. "Not'ing 'as 'appen' to 'er, mon Jeem. She is quite safe."
"I'm not so sure about that——"
And putting his weight against the door, he tried to force it in. It yielded a trifle, but the slender bolt held. He waited a moment, listening again, silencing Piquette's whispered protestations at the commotion he was creating, but heard nothing. Then moving away a few paces he pushed the door with his full weight and it flew open with a crash, almost throwing him to the floor.
The room was empty, but the unlocked door leading into Nora Burke's room showed which way she had gone. He went in and looked around. Then out into the corridor by Nora's door. There were some people at the other end of the corridor but Moira and her Irish nurse had disappeared.
Uncertainly, he came back through the rooms to Piquette, who stood in Moira's room, watching the prisoners through the doorway.
"It is what I 'ave said, mon Jeem. Madame does not wish to go wit' you."