Mollie took Lucille wholly in charge for the remainder of the day, and allowed Nannette, who had been closely confined within doors, to have a little time to herself, and she went out to visit and take tea with a friend.
She returned about nine in the evening to find her charge sleeping quietly and restfully, and Mollie reading a new book in the library.
They soon retired, Mollie occupying Monsieur Lamonti's room, which adjoined, although it did not connect with the one where Lucille and Nannette slept. Mollie said she preferred this arrangement to being put off in the guest chamber, as she would feel less lonely.
After shutting herself into the room for the night—although she did not lock the door—not feeling sleepy, she began to look about the apartment, which, like the rest of the house, was full of beautiful and interesting things—fine paintings on the walls, choice books and bric-a-brac on tables and mantle, and in one corner a cabinet of curios, rare and costly.
Mollie spent a long time looking these latter over and reading from the "key" their history and the names of the far-off places whence they had come. But she grew weary of this occupation after a while and finally began to prepare for bed.
While thus engaged she observed on a stand behind the bed what appeared to be a book having a curious cover. She attempted to take it up when the top came off, and she was startled to find it was a box containing a small, but beautiful silver-mounted revolver.
Her start, however, was only momentary, for Mollie knew something about firearms, having had some practise at shooting at a target while she was abroad. She lifted the weapon and examined it carefully, noting the curious chasing on the silver, the number of chambers, and also that it was loaded.
She finally laid it back in its place, replacing the cover, and had scarcely done so when, for the first time, she noticed upon the opposite side of the room a small safe. For a moment an uncomfortable sensation began to creep over her, for the safe and the loaded revolver suggested that there might be valuables to be defended in the former—possibly, she thought, costly jewels, which might have belonged to Lucille's mother and grandmother.
But she put away the feeling with a little shrug and smile, resolutely put out the electric lights, then crept into bed and was soon dreaming, as on two previous nights since her meeting with him, of the hero of her girlhood—Clifford Faxon.
The next she knew she was vaguely conscious of hearing the cathedral clock in the hall strike two; then she was suddenly broad awake, every sense painfully on the alert, although she could not, for the moment, move a muscle, as the conviction was forced upon her that some one was moving stealthily about the room.