“What is it? Oh, please tell me if I have vexed you—oh, please....”
Lady Heritage took her hands away.
“I had forgotten you walked in your sleep,” she said. “I don’t like locked doors as a rule, but I suppose you had better keep yours fastened. I shouldn’t like you to walk into the sea and get drowned, or break your neck falling off the terrace. Get back to your bed. I’m just going to mine. I’ve been working late.”
She went out, and it was a long, long time before Jane, who had heard the soft footfalls die away in the distance, dared open the door and take a hasty look along the corridor. It was quite empty.
After another pause she went to the cupboard door and opened it. The flooring stretched unbroken; there was no square hole, and no Henry. She sat down on the floor, hesitated, and then knocked lightly.
Under her very hand a board rose with a little jerk—a line of light showed, and Henry’s voice said softly:
“All clear?”
“Yes, be quick, I daren’t wait.”
“Who was it?”
“Lady Heritage.”