“Nothing,” answered Annie. “I lie down and try to sleep.”
She hurried from the room, scarcely waiting to bid
either lady good-night. Mrs. Acheson and Belle sat up a little longer, then they also retired for the night.
Annie had lain down on her bed without undressing. It is true she pulled the counterpane over her in case Mrs. Acheson or Belle should come into the room; but sleep was far from her wakeful eyes.
By and by the house grew quiet. She heard the servants going up to their attics overhead; she heard Mrs. Acheson shut herself into her own room, and Belle shut herself into hers. Belle slept with her door locked, and Annie heard the key being turned. A few moments later profound silence fell upon the house; the lights were all out. One by one the inhabitants slept, all but Annie, who lay with every nerve tingling and her sense of waiting preternaturally acute.
While Rupert had been in the house she had followed all his movements with a terrible knowledge of him and his ways which gave her the clew to much that he was doing. When he laid his hand on the wooden box, Annie felt as if a burning-red hand had touched her own heart. When he stood by the window she could scarcely contain her uneasiness. When he spoke about burglars it seemed to her that the whole of what was immediately to follow was laid bare to her. Rupert was in desperate straits; he would stop at nothing to achieve his object. Was it possible that he, the man whom Annie loved, whose father had been good and respectable, whose mother had been one of the gentlest and sweetest of women, would stoop as low as this? Alas! Annie feared it. Now was her time for action. She slipped softly out of bed, unfastened her door without making any noise, and glided down through the silent house. Mrs. and Miss Acheson were both sound sleepers; the servants were far away. She reached the ground floor, turned the handle
of the drawing-room door, found the door locked from the outside. Taking great care, she unlocked it, still without making any sound. Then, in her stockinged feet she crossed the room and took her place in shadow close to the window where Rupert had stood that evening.
The moon was still up, and its light fell across the room. The drawing-room had three large windows with Venetian blinds. It looked on to a fair-sized garden; the windows were not more than three feet from the ground. Annie now observed with increased apprehension that the blind to this window was up. She instantly remembered that it had got out of order that morning, and heard Mrs. Acheson say that she must send for a man to repair it. Rupert must have also noticed that fact as he stood with Belle close to the window.
Annie got still deeper into the shadow of the thick curtains, and waited. All too soon she heard just what she expected to hear—steps in the garden outside; the steps approached the window. The bright flood of moonlight was broken by a huge shadow; a man was standing on the window-sill. Annie did not stir. She heard the grating noise of a small diamond against the glass; a square was quickly cut out, a hand and arm intruded themselves, and the hasp, the construction of which had been explained to Rupert by Belle, was quickly unfastened. The next instant the window was lifted, and Rupert Colchester stepped into the room. He went at once to the table where the wooden box stood, laid his hand on it, and was about to turn back when Annie, making a sudden movement, confronted him, standing in the white light caused by the moon.
“You must put that box back, Rupert,” said Annie; “if you don’t I shall call out.”