By now it was nearly half-past six. At present there was not a sign of the servants, but the light was already beginning to show above the famous elms in the park. Gentle-footed as a cat, Girlie crept like a ghost across the hall parquet. To do that cost her one pang more. That particular spot was full of memories. No matter what experiences the future held she would never be able to forget the kindly simple man who had wanted to marry her.
She stole through the shadows of a dim corridor to the heavily barred front door. It proved a nerve-racking business to withdraw its chains and bolts, yet it was not these things which suddenly brought her up short with an icy gasp of fear.
Without warning of any kind a hand was laid upon her shoulder. As she half turned a strange face confronted hers in the semi-darkness of the corridor.
“Early abroad.” Whoever the speaker might be his appearance was a little strained, a little odd. His voice, with its queer, rather mocking laugh, seemed equally so. Something there was in the dark, heavily mustached, rather Semitic countenance, that sent a chill through Girlie’s heart.
Powerless to speak, she felt her knees sinking under her. Instinct, that fatal instinct for the world and its ways, told her at once who and what this man was. His next sinister words were not needed to enlighten her, although they did so quite unmistakably.
“You had better go back to bed, hadn’t you?” The voice was soft, but it was soft with menace. “You see, I’ve been looking out for this. Played it up rather high, haven’t you—er—Miss?—I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name. But we shall know it soon enough, unless, of course”—the laugh was not at all kind—“you are in a position to prove to the satisfaction of Lord Carabbas that you are really his daughter.”
Girlie, mute and shaking, realized that the end had come. She continued to listen sickly to the malicious and unpleasant voice. “As I say, we don’t know who you are, we don’t know what your record may be, but if without putting us to further trouble you will tell us where Mrs. Minever’s sapphire and diamond ring is to be found I’ll give you my word that the police will make it as easy for you as they can.”
Bereft of speech, Girlie could only tremble. She had to lean against the wall for support. This man was a detective from Scotland Yard who, at the instance of Mrs. Minever, had come to Clavering Park to clear up the matter of the missing jewelry.
“Now be a sensible young woman and go straight back to your room without making a fuss. And just see that you stay there until I’ve had a chance to have a little talk with the lady of the house. If you go quietly and behave sensibly I’ll undertake to do what I can for you.”
There was only one thing for it now, and that was to take the detective’s advice. This, accordingly, Girlie did. She returned to her room and sat forlornly by the window gazing on to the park awaiting further developments. After a time, in spite of the fur coat, the chill of a November morning fell upon her. Finding that her teeth were chattering, she decided to return to her down-quilted bed.