Had she slept?
Yes.
Had she seen the black cat?
No.
“The truth is, Janet,” she said, “I have had a most terrible dream. I feel sure it was a warning, and I really don’t know whether I ought to call for it or not.”
“Call for what?”
“The bag.”
“Was the dream about the bag?”
“What else could it be about? I took one of my little bromides last night, for I knew I had not a chance of sleep after the agitation of the day. And I fell asleep at once. And I dreamed that it was morning, and I was in my outdoor things going to Brown and Prodgers for the bag. And the black cat walked all the way before me with its tail up. But it did not come in. And when I got there I told a shopwalker who was standing near the door what I had come about. He was a tall, dark man with a sort of down look. He bowed and said, ‘Follow me, madam.’ And I followed him. And we went through the—ahem! the gentlemen’s underclothing, which I make a point of never going through, I always go round by the artificial flowers, until we came to a glass door near the lift. And he unlocked the door and I went in, and there on the table lay my bag. I was so delighted I ran to take it. But he stopped me, and I saw then what an evil-looking man he was. And he said, ‘Look well at this bag, madam. Do you recognise it as yours?’ And I looked and I said I did. There was the place where you had mended the handle.