“No, no; I’ll go look for Gertrude. Don’t mind me. I remember all the rooms well enough to make myself at home till she comes.”
Margeret inclined her head slightly and moved along the hall to the door of the dining room, which she entered.
Evilena looked after her with a dubious smile in the blue-gray eyes.
“I wonder if I could move as quietly as that even with my feet bare,” and she tried walking softly on the polished oak floor, but the heels of her shoes would persist in giving out little clicking sounds as Margeret’s had not.
“It’s no use. No living person with shoes on could walk silently as that woman. She’s just a ghost who––a-gh-gh!”
Her attempt at silent locomotion had brought her to the door of the library, directly opposite the dining room. As she turned to retrace her steps that door suddenly opened and a hand grasped her shoulder.
“Oh, ho! This time I’ve caught you, have I? you––oh, murder!”
Her half uttered scream had been checked by the sound of a voice which memory told her was not that of her bugbear, the invalid master of the house. It was, instead, a strange gentleman, who was young, and even attractive; whose head was a mass of reddish curls, and whose austere gaze changed quickly to an embarrassed stare as her hat slipped back and he saw her face. The girl was the first to recover herself.
“Yes, you certainly did catch me this time,” she gasped.