"Why, yes!" Betty stammered, flushing warmly. It was the glove she had dropped during her last stormy interview with Herbert Ross. Her companion she had recognized at once as Demon's keeper whom she encountered on the afternoon when the dog rescued her from Wolvert's unwelcome attentions. "Did he give it to you for me?"
"And something else besides. We got talking and he asked would I give you the glove and this letter. He said it was very private and I was to tell nobody, but put it in your own hands the first chance I got, so I come straight here and nosed around until I saw you over by the fire-place."
"Thank you!" Betty seized the envelope and thrust it in her breast. "I will see that you are well paid—"
"Oh, that's all right, Miss. The young gentleman fixed me up, but I'd have done it anyway. Demon's a good judge of character, he is! I'll beat it now, Miss. It's as much as my place is worth to be seen around here."
He vanished into the darkness and Betty closed the window and sank into the chair before the desk. The letter lay like a living hand upon her heart and she longed for solitude and security to read it in peace, but Mrs. Atterbury's voice sounded from the hall and she knew that at any moment the others would descend for dinner. Why had Ross taken this desperate chance to communicate with her? Was it to implore forgiveness for his accusation, or in final warning of disaster?
She fumbled at her breast in a desperate impulse to brave discovery if necessary but to glean at all costs the purport of his message, when the door opened and Welch stood on the threshold, announcing dinner.
How she managed to struggle through the hour that followed she could scarcely remember. The expression of half-startled amazement with which the others greeted her changed appearance and the awkward attempt to bridge over their surprise lingered but vaguely in her thoughts. She could feel their gaze turning to her again and again in the pauses of the disjointed conversation, but she kept her face assiduously averted, fearing lest they read in her eyes the knowledge she had gained from the charred fragment of paper.
To her relief Mrs. Atterbury dismissed her as soon as the meal was concluded, drawing her aside at the foot of the stairs to whisper commendingly:
"My dear, the improvement is marvellous, as I told you it would be. Use the wax regularly in future and you will have no cause to pity yourself, I can assure you. No one would believe there was a blemish beneath the rouge which you have so cleverly applied, but be careful not to overdo it. Your coloring is just a little too brilliant tonight."
Betty glanced at herself hurriedly in the mirror when she reached the privacy of her room. Her eyes glittered and her cheeks burned feverishly beneath the artificial glow. With trembling fingers she drew the envelope from its hiding place and broke the seal.