“But you saw her leave the room, and you locked the door behind her.”
“I locked the door, yes. But I did not see her leave the room.”
Webster looked at his friend inquiringly.
“I distinctly remember you saying that she walked to the door and blew out the candle.”
“Precisely; but I said nothing about seeing her leave the room.”
“By George!” Webster slapped his knee suddenly. “It was a bluff. She did not go out, at all.”
“No; she was in the office all the time I worked upon the safe. I reasoned the matter out afterwards. While she was fumbling with the combination, she must have caught sight of me. It was a shadow, perhaps, or more likely my reflection in the polished door of the safe. When she covered her face with her hands, I thought she was crying of disappointment; but really she must have been stifling a scream, or shrewdly thinking up a plan of action.”
“I prefer the last,” stated Webster.
“So she arose, took up the candle, and walked toward the door. Every step plainly said that she had given up the fight, that she had no further hope. Almost in the doorway, she blew the candle out. I naturally supposed that she went on; instead, she darted behind something in the office,—there were lots of things that would screen her,—and so waited until I had found what she appeared to want so badly.”
“Clever!” exclaimed Webster, emphatically. “She has nerve, too. Not one girl in a thousand could think so clearly under such circumstances. Do you know, I’m almost sorry that she was caught.”