“Efficiently, I should say. Yes. What do you suggest, then?”
“Go back and see if she is there still, and all right. We know the man is gone, now. If she is there she will be free to explain, and I can’t see what harm we can do.”
“Come with me, then,” I said, “you’re right, of course.”
I knocked at the door as I had knocked the first time. There was no answer. Undoubtedly Helena had more rooms than one behind her door, as John and I had. She might be in the farthest of her suite, and could not hear our knock, but I did not believe that for a moment. For better or worse, I was sure she had gone. Nevertheless, I pounded with my fist, and added another bruise to my growing collection. Silence. At last I turned around and kicked with the heel of my shoe. If she were there she must hear that, but there was no answer.
Then another problem presented itself. Helena was gone. What should we do next? Follow her in our car? Or break down the door? Or do nothing? The door was too heavy to be broken open with less than an axe.
John said casually, as though he broke into ladies’ apartments every morning of his life, “perhaps her maid has a key.” He walked off down the passage. I waited quietly until he came back. I was too sore to move. He had two men with him and the maid who had worn woollen stockings under her nightgown. She seemed to be dressed in the same way still, so I decided that it was quite probably merely her usual nightly attire. One of the men carried an iron crowbar, the maid a bunch of keys. They were all talking excitedly, and when they saw me they broke out afresh. They assured me that Madame would kill them all if they opened her door. The maid was crying. No one dared disturb madame, ever.
“The fact remains,” I said, “we distinctly saw a man enter and two people leave this house tonight. And there was someone in madame’s room. Now she does not answer. It must be she either is not there, or she cannot answer. It is our duty to find out.”
“The gnädige Gräfin,” the maid said, in her dismal voice, “knows many things of enormous importance, of which we know nothing. She has friends in high places.”
“And,” John said, impressively, “she has also enemies in high places. We wish her only good. Come, open the door at once.” His tone had its effect. He held out his hand, and the maid gave him the keys, indicating a large brass one, with an ornamental handle. John turned it in the lock, and in silence flung open the door.
Behind it were three rooms opening into each other. All three were quite empty. A long desk was piled neatly with papers in the study, a shawl lay where it had been dropped on the back of a chair. Bookcases lined the walls, the books soberly in their places. An American magazine lay on an easy chair by the window. We passed on to a dressing room. There, too, everything was in order, though one or two bureau drawers were open. Beyond the dressing room was the bedroom. It was like the others. A pair of satin slippers lay where they had been kicked, in the middle of the floor, otherwise nothing was disturbed.