And, best of all, I had found an old friend. A good many of our friends had vanished after we fell on evil times. No one had been actively unpleasant; we simply felt that we were outside the circle, and we had made up our minds, rather bitterly, that money was the only thing that counted. To meet Dr. Firth, with his warm memories of Father, had helped me wonderfully, even though I had not felt able to do as he wished in leaving The Towers. It was delightful to think that we were to have his friendship after I had gone back to Prahran. Now—what a jolly letter I could write to Colin and Madge! I could not wait a moment to begin: I found writing materials hurriedly, and in a moment my pen was fairly flying over the paper.
It was late when I finished. My eyes were aching, and I switched off the light and leaned out of the window. Every one seemed to have gone to bed: the house was very still, and the scent of a great bush of bouvardia under my window came up to me in a wave. I stayed there dreaming, until I began to feel cold, and found myself yawning.
Just as I turned to undress and go to bed a faint sound below caught my ear. I held my breath to listen. Clearly there was some one below: the muffled, stealthy steps were unmistakable. The memory of the Wootong burglar flashed upon me. Was the thief about to try his luck at The Towers?
As I listened, the soft movements passed from the path beneath my window, and seemed to come from the direction of the yard. I heard a faint crunch that could only be the gravel at the back. There, I knew, everything was locked up—Mrs. Winter had a pious horror of unfastened doors and windows, and saw that all were secure every night before she went to her room. I resolved to reconnoitre a little farther before alarming the house. In a moment I was running softly down the back staircase.
Half-way down, a sudden sound brought me to a standstill, trembling. Some one had come in and had closed a door, very gently. In a moment stealthy steps were mounting the stairs towards me.
There was no time to get back to my room: quiet as the steps were, they were swift—whoever was coming was almost on me. The scream which all proper young persons should be able to produce refused to come from my lips; my feet would not move. I put out my hand to the wall to steady myself, shrinking away, and my fingers encountered an electric light switch. Almost without knowing what I did, I turned it on.
The light, magically transforming the black darkness, shone full on Mrs. McNab, coming up the stairs in her dark day gown and soft hat. She might have been out for a morning walk. But the glimpse I had of her face under the brim of the hat staggered me, so white was it and so haggard.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. McNab!” I stammered. “I thought you were a burglar!”
She had started violently when the light flashed out—started almost as though she would run away. Then she came on swiftly, and brushed rudely past me, without a word or glance. I stood staring after her, but she did not turn. Her quick strides took her beyond the landing: I heard her feet on the upper staircase, and then the click of her door as it shut.
I made my way upstairs, still trembling. Within the shelter of my room I collapsed on my bed, thankful for its support.