She looked very grim, but made no answer. We turned and left her. She stood for a moment as if thinking, and then, taking down her bunch of keys, followed us.
‘If you will come this way,’ she said, stopping just behind us at another door in the court, ‘I think I can show you the room you want. But really, Mr Cumbermede, you are turning the place upside down. If I had thought it would come to this—’
‘I hope to do so a little more yet, Mrs Wilson,’ I interrupted. ‘But I am sure you will be pleased with the result.’
She did not reply, but led the way up a stair, across the little open gallery, and by passages I did not remember, to the room I wanted. It was in precisely the same condition as when I occupied it.
‘This is the room, I believe,’ she said, as she unlocked and threw open the door. ‘Perhaps it would suit you, Miss Coningham?’
‘Not in the least,’ answered Clara. ‘Who knows which of my small possessions might vanish before the morning!’
The housekeeper’s face grew turkey-red with indignation.
‘Mr Cumbermede has been filling your head with some of his romances, I see, Miss Clara!’
I laughed, for I did not care to show myself offended with her rudeness.
‘Never you mind,’ said Clara; ‘I am not going to sleep there.’