Again she started, for there was a sound below, a loud rat-tat at the front door, and she stood with her heart beating horribly till she heard the sound of racing footsteps and a burst of children’s laughter. Some mischievous urchins had knocked at the door of the empty house.
Forcing herself to be calm, Millicent Hallam felt the box in her bag, and asked herself whether she had fully obeyed her husband’s command and succeeded. Was this the box? She repeated the directions with her eyes fixed upon the spot from whence she had extracted it. Yes; there could be no mistake, she must be right, and, lowering her veil, she passed out of the attic with its littered floor, closed and locked the door, took out the key, and descended as if in a dream to the hall, where she paused to satisfy herself that her dress showed no traces of her work, and that the box was safely hidden.
All was right, and she drew a long breath.
And now once more came the tremor and faintness; the memories of the old place seemed to be crowding round her; and in the agony of her spirit she felt that she would faint, and perhaps all would be discovered. She fought this down and another horror assailed her. She had come there like a thief; she had broken open part of the house and stolen this case which she was bearing away, and she trembled like a leaf. But once more her womanhood and faith asserted themselves.
“His papers, his own hiding, in our own house,” she said proudly. “Robert, husband, I have them safe. I will bear them to you over the sea.”
Opening the door with firm hand she passed out, the soft pure air reviving her, and she started, for a well-known voice said:
“I will close the door for you, Mrs Hallam. Forgive me for coming. You have been so long, I had grown uneasy.”
“Long?” she said, looking at Bayle wildly.
“Yes; time passes quickly when we are deep in thought. It is two hours since you left me at the cottage.”
It had seemed to her but a few minutes’ wild, exciting search.