“Shall we go on and eat our breakfast?”
“I hate to, on Kim’s last day under this roof. I shall send up and at least find out if he is still asleep.”
Hollis, the butler and general factotum of the establishment, was dispatched on the errand.
When Hollis returned, though his face showed amazement and doubt, there was no sign of fear, but rather a suppressed smile and an indulgent twinkle of his eye.
“Mr. Kimball is very sound asleep, ma’am,” he reported to his mistress. “Will you not leave him lay for awhile?”
“You are implying,” said Mrs. Webb, astutely, “that Mr. Kimball was at a gay party last night. He spoke with me on his return, and I can assure you, Hollis, that he had not been over-celebrating in any way.”
The butler looked chagrined, then relieved, then puzzled.
“In that case, ma’am, why does he sleep so very soundly? I rapped as loud as I could, and also shook at the door-knob. And then, I listened at the keyhole, but I could hear no deep breathing, as of a sound sleeper.”
“I will go up myself,” said Kimball Webb’s mother, and the man held the door open for her to pass through.
“It is very strange,” said Henrietta, with a covert glance at the butler.