“Yes.”
174“And with the rooms of old palaces and châteaux that are opened only when visitors arrive?”
“Yes.”
“Well, this is that smell.”
She also inhaled, and closed her eyes. “So it is.”
“It’s the tapestries and old wood, and the bloom on the paintings, I suppose. But it’s good. I like it.”
“It’s a little musty, perhaps, but–”
She stopped so suddenly that Pats turned toward her. With a look of surprise she was pointing to the dining-table, close beside them. In the centre of this table, and very white against the dark oak, lay an envelope. Upon it had been placed a silver spoon to prevent disturbance from any possible gust of air through the open door.
“Some one has been here!” And she regarded Pats with startled eyes.
Before touching the letter he instinctively cast a look about the room for other evidence. While he was doing it, Elinor pointed toward the farther end of the cottage, to the kitchen table, and whispered: