Antoinette heard the door creak, and she was on her feet like a flash.
"Oh, my lady, it is you!" she whispered, marveling much where her mistress got such a queer bonnet and cloak. "Let me help you take off your wrap. You look pale as death. Are you ill?"
"No, no, Antoinette," replied Mrs. Gardiner, flushing hotly, annoyed with herself, the inquisitive maid, and the world in general. But she felt that she must make some kind of an excuse, say something. "Yes, I'm tired out," she replied, quickly. "I was called away to see a sick friend, and had to go just as I was, as there was not a moment to lose."
"You were very prudent, my lady, to remove your magnificent jewels. Shall I not take them from your pocket, and replace them in their caskets, and lock them safely away?"
"I will attend to them myself, Antoinette," she panted, hoarsely. "Help me off with this—this ball-dress, and get me to bed. I am fagged out for want of sleep. I do not want any breakfast; do not awake me."
Looking at her mistress keenly from beneath her long lashes, Antoinette saw that she was terribly agitated.
Long after the inner door had closed on her, Antoinette sat thinking, and muttered, thoughtfully:
"I shall find out where my lady was last night. Trust me to learn her secret, and then she will be in my power!"