“Looking for the key to the south door,” I replied. “Have you seen it?”
“No. I have not seen it since last night.”
She waited for a moment, watching me rearrange the charts.
“I wish this trouble were all cleared up,” she said, her voice sombre.
“So do I.” I replaced the last chart and turned to face her. The greenish light from above the desk made her face worn and colourless and cast a sickly green glow over our white dresses.
“If we don’t find it to-morrow I shall have to have a new key made. I suppose we can leave the south door unlocked to-night,” I decided irresolutely. “I don’t like to; I have had enough of people prowling through our wing.”
Maida’s shadowed eyes met mine and she shivered slightly; she attempted to smile but her lips pulled tautly.
“It is getting to disturb me more and more,” she admitted. “Think of this, Sarah: it has been only four days since that dinner party of Corole’s. Is it possible! So much has happened. It seems like months.”
“This is Tuesday,” I calculated, “That was last Thursday night—no, Maida, five days.”
“Well, five days then,” she assented lifelessly. “What a five days! If it would only turn warm and summery and sunshiny again, I do believe things would be better off. I’m sure I should be at least!”