“Come,” I said, making a sudden resolution, and led the way down the stairs.
He said nothing when he saw Bella, for which I was grateful. She was sitting at the table, with her arms in front of her, and her head buried in them. And then I saw she was asleep. Her hat and veil were laid beside her, and she had taken off her coat and draped it around her. She had rummaged out a cold pheasant and some salad, and had evidently had a little supper. Supper and a nap, while I worried myself gray-headed about her!
“She—she came in unexpectedly—something about the butler,” I explained under my breath. “And—she doesn’t want to stay. She is on bad terms with—with some of the people upstairs. You can see how impossible the situation is.”
“I doubt if we can get her out,” he said, as if the situation were quite ordinary. “However, we can try. She seems very comfortable. It’s a pity to rouse her.”
Here the prisoner in the furnace room broke out afresh. It sounded as though he had taken a lump of coal and was attacking the lock. Mr. Harbison followed the noise, and I could hear him arguing, not gently.
“Another sound,” he finished, “and you won’t get out of here at all, unless you crawl up the furnace pipe!”
When he came back, Bella was rousing. She lifted her head with her eyes shut and then opened them one at a time, blinked, and sat up. She didn’t see him at first.
“You wretch!” she said ungratefully, after she had yawned. “Do you know what time it is? And that—” Then she saw Mr. Harbison and sat staring at him.
“This is Mr. Harbison,” I said to her hastily. “He—he came with Anne and Dal and—he is shut in, too.”
By that time Bella had seen how handsome he was, and she took a hair pin out of her mouth, and arched her eyebrows, which was always Bella’s best pose.