"Very good," said Garrison, with his mind made up to remain all night and explore the house for possible clews to anything connected with its mysteries. "You may as well return to your apartments. I can find my way upstairs."
"Is there anything I could get you, sir?" inquired the woman. "You look a bit pale, sir, if you'll pardon the forwardness."
"Thank you, no," he answered gratefully. "All I need is rest." He slipped half a dollar in her hand.
The woman switched on the lights in the hallway above.
"Good-night, sir," she said. "If you're needing anything more I hope you'll ring."
"Good-night," said Garrison. "I shall not disturb you, I'm sure."
With ample nerve to enact the part of master, he ascended the stairs, proceeded to the room to which he had always gone before, and waited to hear the woman below retire to her quarters in the basement.
The room denoted nothing unusual. The roses, which he had taken from the vase to obtain the water to sprinkle on Dorothy's face, had disappeared. The vase was there on the table.
He crossed the floor and tried the door that led to Dorothy's boudoir.
It was locked. Without further ado, he began his explorations.
It was not without a sense of gratitude that he presently discovered the bathroom at the rear of the hall. Here he laved his face and head, being very much refreshed by the process.