"Really, Charles," I remonstrated—"a lady's private apartment! Miss Derrick, I wonder you allow this."
Charles retreated again, and then made a fresh and even fiercer onslaught on the door. There was a sound of splintering wood and of bursting screws, and in another moment the door flew open inward, and Charles was precipitated head-foremost into the room, his evening-pumps flourishing wildly in the air. In an instant he was on his feet again, gasping hard, and had seized the lamp out of Evelyn's hand. Before I had time to remonstrate on the liberty that he was taking, we were all three in the room.
It was empty!
In one corner stood a box, half packed, with various articles of clothing lying by it. On the dressing-table was a whole medley of little feminine knick-knacks, with a candlestick in the midst, the dead wick still smoking in the socket, and accounting for the disappearance of the light a few minutes before. The fire had gone out, but on a chair by it was laid a little black lace evening-gown, evidently put out to be worn; while over the fender a dainty pair of silk stockings had been hung, and two diminutive black satin shoes were waiting on the hearth-rug. The whole aspect of the room spoke of a sudden and precipitate flight.
"Bolted!" said Charles, when he had recovered his breath. "And so the mystery is out at last! I might have known there was a woman at the bottom of it. Unpremeditated, though," he continued, looking round. "She meant to have gone to-morrow; but your recognition of that paper frightened her, though she turned it off well to gain time. No fool that! She had only an hour, and she made the most of it, and got off, no doubt, while we were at dinner, by the 8.2 London train, which is the last to-night; and after the telegraph office was closed, too! She knew nothing could be done till to-morrow. She has more wit than I gave her credit for."
"I distrusted her before, though I had no reason for it, but I never thought she was gone," said Evelyn, trembling violently, and still looking round the room.
"I knew it," said Charles, "from the moment I saw the light through the key-hole. A key-hole with a key in it would not have shown half the amount of light through it; and a locked door without a key in it is safe to have been locked from the outside. Had she a maid with her?"
"No," replied Evelyn, "she used to come to me next door when she wanted help—but not often—because I think she knew I did not like her, though I tried not to show it."
"Well, we have seen the last of her, or I am much mistaken," said Charles. "And now," he added, compressing his lips, "I suppose I must go and tell Ralph."
"Oh, Ralph! Ralph!" gasped Evelyn, with a sudden sob; "and he was so fond of her!"