The drawer was empty; the girl put one hand in, feeling with trembling fingers along the back.
Something impelled her to look up; the breath caught in her throat, and her groping hand was checked. A shadow had appeared in the panel of light on the wall, the shadow of a man's head.
The girl's eyes remained riveted on it while seconds passed. No sound had betrayed his approach, but someone was behind her, watching.
She slid the drawer home inch by inch; her throat felt parched, her knees shook.
A smooth voice that yet held a note of menace spoke: "Were you looking for something, miss?"
She turned; under the mask she was deadly pale. The valet stood in the doorway behind her, motionless.
She said with what assurance she could muster: "How you startled me! I have been admiring some of this wonderful old furniture. I wonder if you can tell me if this is a William and Mary piece?"
His eyes travelled slowly to the tallboy and back again to her face. His tight mouth relaxed into a smile that was curiously unpleasant. It seemed to triumph, to gloat; the girl felt her skin prick, but stood still, waiting.
"The tallboy," said Collins softly.
She swallowed. "Yes. Do you know its date?"