She tried the handle. The door would not yield—it was locked on the inside.
"Gerald, are you in bed?" his wife inquired, putting her lips to the crack and speaking low.
"What do you wish, Anna?" the man questioned.
"I wish to see you—I must speak with you, even if you have retired," she returned, imperatively.
There was a slight movement within the room, then the door was thrown open, and Gerald Goddard stood before her.
But she shrank back almost immediately, a low exclamation of surprise escaping her as she saw his face, so white, so pain-drawn, and haggard.
"Gerald! what is the matter?" she demanded, forgetting, for the moment, her own anger and even her errand there, in the anxiety which she experienced for him.
"I am feeling quite well, Anna," he responded, in a mechanical tone. "What is it you wish to say to me?"
Sweeping into the room, she closed the door after her, then confronted him with accusing mien.
"What do I wish to say to you?" she repeated, her voice quivering with passion, her eyes blazing with a fierce expression. "I want that paper which you have stolen from me."