She perceived at length that he was stubbornly bent on this outrageous thing. For a breath she contemplated dashing madly from the place, seeking Trego, and demanding his protection.
But immediately, with a sharp pang, she was reminded that she might no longer depend even on Trego.
As the detective tentatively approached her dressing-table the girl swung a wicker armchair about so that it faced a corner of the room and threw herself angrily into it, her back to the four.
Immediately, as if nothing but her eye had prevented it theretofore, the search was instituted.
She heard drawers opened and closed, sounds of rummaging. She trembled violently with impotent exasperation. It was intolerable, yet it must be endured. There was one satisfaction: they would find nothing, and presently Mrs. Gosnold would reappear and their insolence be properly punished.
She could not believe that Mrs. Gosnold would let it pass unrebuked. And yet . . .
Of a sudden it was borne in upon the girl that she had found this little island world a heartless, selfish place, that she had yet to meet one of its inhabitants by whom her faith and affection had not been betrayed, deceived and despised.
Remembering this, dared she count upon even Mrs. Gosnold in this hour of greatest need?
Had that lady not, indeed, already failed her protegee by indulging in the whim of this unaccountable disappearance?
Must one believe what had been suggested, that she, believing her confidence misplaced in Sally, was merely keeping out of the way until the unhappy business had been accomplished and the putative cause of it all removed from Gosnold House?