“They—they persuaded you, I suppose, and it was to help somebody? It was not a practical joke?”
“No,” I rallied a little spirit at that. It had been anything but a joke.
He drew a long breath.
“I think I understand,” he said slowly, “but—you could have saved me something. I must have given you all a great deal of amusement.”
“Oh, no,” I protested. “I—I want to tell you—”
But he deliberately left me and went over to the door. There he turned and looked down at Aunt Selina. He was a little white, but there was no passion in his face.
“Thank you for telling me all this, Miss Caruthers,” he said easily. “Now that you and I know, I’m afraid the others will miss their little diversion. Good night.”
Oh, it was all right for Jim to laugh and say that he was only huffed a little and would be over it by morning. I knew better. There was something queer in his face as he went out. He did not even glance in my direction. He had said very little, but he had put me as effectually in the wrong as if he had not kissed me—deliberately kissed me—that very evening, on the roof.
I did not go to sleep again. I lay wretchedly thinking things over and trying to remember who Jezebel was, and toward morning I distinctly heard the knob of the door turn. I mistrusted my ears, however, and so I got up quietly and went over in the darkness. There was no sound outside, but when I put my hand on the knob I felt it move under my fingers. The counter pressure evidently alarmed whoever it was, for the knob was released and nothing more happened. But by this time anything so uncomplicated as the fumbling of a knob at night had no power to disturb me. I went back to bed.