A Harlequin with whom she had danced earlier in the evening detained her as she tried to slip past him. He showed a tendency to keep her beside him, pointing laughingly to the clock. One minute to twelve; she made an excuse that she had left a ring in the cloakroom and escaped him. She reached the top of the stairs as the first chime began and ran towards the archway.
The passage was silent and deserted; at the top of the back stairs the door still stood ajar. She reached it, cast a quick glance through, and with a shuddering sigh of relief pulled it to. The shaft of light disappeared, the latch clicked. The girl went to the tallboy and pulled open the drawer she had tried before. Straining her ears to catch the sound of a footstep approaching up the stairs, her hands went feverishly about their work, pressing, scratching along the back of the drawer. Something moved there; the false back came away, revealing a space behind. The girl thrust her hand in, feeling for some object. There was nothing there.
For a moment she stood quite still, her hand in the drawer. Then slowly she drew it out and replaced the false back. There was a bitter twist to her mouth. She pushed the drawer home.
"Admiring the furniture?" said a drawling voice.
She started uncontrollably and swung round. Leaning against the archway that led to the hall was Mephistopheles, without his mask.
The dry sob that broke from her was one of startled nerves. "You!" she panted. "You followed me up here!"
"Why not?" he said.
She could not answer; she stood staring at him, backed against the tallboy.
"Do you usually inspect the furniture in the houses you visit?" inquired Mr. Amberley in a conversational voice.
She made an effort to pull herself together. "I'm interested in period pieces."