That afternoon, I was writing a letter to Mrs. Garth, when Feo came into my room.
“I wish you would take me for a drive, Dora,” she said. “My headache has nearly gone, and I believe fresh air would cure it altogether.”
So I put my half-finished letter on one side, ordered the carriage, and prepared myself to go out with Feo. We both enjoyed the drive, and as I was still fresh to many of the sights of St. Petersburg, there was plenty of subject matter for conversation.
On arriving home again, I repaired at once to my own room, as I was anxious to finish the letter which I had begun to write to Mrs. Garth. I took the key of my room door out of my pocket. As I did not want the prying eyes of any of the servants to glance over my correspondence, I had taken the precaution of locking my door instead of putting my papers into my desk again.
I was somewhat surprised to find that the door was not locked, after all, and thought for a moment that I might have been mistaken as to having turned the key. But no. Reflection convinced me that there had been no mistake. I distinctly remembered that, after taking the key out of the lock, I had tried the door-handle. It would not yield to my touch. Therefore, the door had been locked. It was not locked when I returned. It was evident, then, that it had been tampered with during my absence. But who could have taken such an unwarrantable liberty? The question puzzled me, until I recalled to mind a figure I had seen on the stairs as I came up. It was the figure of a man whom I had not seen before, but who was walking leisurely downstairs, as if he felt assured of a safe and familiar footing in the house.
Who, or what could he be?
A servant in the house?
I thought not.
What then, a spy?
At the mere thought of being subject to the government espionage of which I had heard so much my limbs trembled under me and I fairly gasped for breath. I thought of May Morris and her gruesome predictions, and the wildest consternation seized me as I wondered if I had written anything that could compromise me. Had my letter to Mrs. Garth been overhauled? I must ascertain, if possible. I examined my blotting case and papers. They did not look as if they had been disturbed. I was putting them down again, half-reassured, when I perceived the faint impress of what must have been a dirty thumb on the edge of the sheet of note-paper on which I had been writing. I disclaimed the idea of having soiled the paper myself; but resolved to apply a test, in order to be quite sure.