The Doctor seemed to consider ways and means of getting the paper.
“The tray is in the dining-room?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Dale.
He thought a moment, then left the room by the hall door. Dale sank back in her chair and felt a sense of overpowering relief steal over her whole body, as if new life had been poured into her veins. The Doctor had been so helpful—why had she not confided in him before? He would know what to do with the paper—she would have the benefit of his counsel through the rest of this troubled time. For a moment she saw herself and Jack, exonerated, their worries at an end, wandering hand in hand over the green lawns of Cedarcrest in the cheerful sunlight of morning.
Behind her, mockingly, the head of the Unknown concealed behind the settee lifted cautiously until, if she had turned, she would have just been able to perceive the top of its skull.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE BLACKENED BAG
As it chanced, she did not turn. The hall door opened—the head behind the settee sank down again. Jack Bailey entered, carrying a couple of logs of firewood.
Dale moved toward him as soon as he had shut the door.
“Oh, things have gone awfully wrong, haven’t they?” she said with a little break in her voice.
He put his finger to his lips.