She closed the door and decided now she might rest, not go to bed yet, but lie down and try to get back to courage and control. She took off her dress and put on her negligée, and with hands raised to loosen her hair heard a step on the stairs. It struck upon her ear, heavy and quick, a man’s step, and she remained as she was, her arms lifted, her eyes staring into her reflected eyes in the mirror. She stood thus till it stopped at her door. When the knock came and Rawson’s voice spoke her name, the hands dropped and she moved to the door.
“Can you come down-stairs for a minute?” the voice said, low and guarded. “I’m sorry to ask you to get up.”
She opened the door. “I hadn’t gone to bed. Yes, of course I’ll come. You want to——”
“Just ask you a few more questions. I’m glad I didn’t wake you.”
She followed him along the passage and down the stairs. They crossed the living-room side by side, Rawson with long strides, she with short quick steps. There was a sense of hurry in their progress as if they were hastening to some ominous goal. When she entered the library her glance fell on Bassett facing her across the room, his brows drawn low over the dark trouble of his eyes. His look told her of anxiety, apprehension and a passionate concern for her. She gave it back, feeling a desperate cold courage run to her fainting senses.
Williams indicated an armchair near the desk:
“Take a seat, Miss Tracy. Sorry we’ve had to call you down.”
She fell into it and, as the men settled themselves in theirs, ran her tongue along her dry lips and took a deep breath of air into her lungs. Then she raised her chin and looked at them, inquiringly attentive. During the passage of the look she laid the charge on her mind to go cautiously and not be afraid.
“We’ve been making some inquiries about your brother, Miss Tracy,” Rawson began. “About his leaving here. You told us, as I remember, that you knew he went.”
“Why, yes, he went.”