Lorinda also had observed the object. Fixing the woman with a stern gaze she said: “Celeste, you’re wearing one of those heathenish ouange charms again! You promised Mother you wouldn’t!”
“This only keeps away bad sickness,” the woman retorted, with a slight accent which nevertheless made her words hard to understand. “A good ouange. Now that my master is away, you are not to tell me what to do.”
“Lorinda, don’t plague her,” Mrs. Rhett said wearily. “We have enough trouble as it is. Let her wear the charm, or a dozen of them, if it gives her any satisfaction.”
Lorinda subsided into injured silence, while Celeste flashed a triumphant smile.
Mrs. Rhett turned again to Penny. In a tone which could be interpreted only as a final dismissal she said: “I am sorry, Miss Parker, that I cannot help you. At present I do not know my husband’s whereabouts or why he went away. If you will excuse me now, I shall go to my room for a rest.”
With dignity she crossed the living room to a handsome circular stairway with a railing of polished mahogany. Her head held proudly, she presented a regal figure as she slowly climbed the steps.
But half way up, she suddenly halted, her body jerking taut. Uttering a low cry which was almost a scream, she stared at an object lying on the step in front of her.
“Why, Mother! What’s wrong?” cried Lorinda.
With Penny and Celeste, she hastened to the staircase. Mrs. Rhett’s face was as colorless as if she had seen a ghost. Her lips trembled. Without speaking, she pointed to the stair carpet.
There at her feet lay two burnt match ends tied together with a bit of scarlet string.