Jack was gone. Suddenly Mrs. Wright's heart misgave her. The bookcase! Had Jack thought of that? Her eyes rested upon it for a second, fascinated. She dare not let them linger there for fear Estelle should perceive her doubts. She felt restless, uneasy. She wished she had not reminded Jack about it, and yet she did not now venture to go and see if he had taken any precautions.
'What do you say, dearie, to our going to bed early to-night?' she asked, when the child's chatter about the Moat House and Begbie Hall came to a natural pause. 'It will be more comfortable in our own room, and you can talk to me just the same till you fall asleep.'
Estelle, who had been sitting with her head against Goody's knee, as being a safer place than anywhere else in that great, dark kitchen, sprang up with joy at the proposal. The bedroom was so much smaller and nicer, and had no ugly corners.
It did not take long to fold up Mrs. Wright's knitting, and put it into the huge bag in which it was kept for convenience, nor to chase the balls of wool and wind them up. Mrs. Wright, meantime, lighted the candles, her eyes on the bookcase.
Her heart suddenly stood still. The bookcase, which ran on large casters, covered the entrance to one of the long passages in the Hospice de la Providence. It was heavy and difficult to move, and yet—was it possible that it was moving? She paused, match in hand, and gazed with terrified eyes. The next moment the recollection of the necessity of keeping the child in ignorance of her danger made her brace up her nerves, and, throwing the match away calmly, she spoke in her usual tones.
'Are you ready now, dearie? Come along. You carry my knitting-bag, and I'll bring the candles and put the lamp out.'
Her movements were, perhaps, a trifle quicker than usual, and her voice might have had a little quiver in it, but Estelle was too much excited, and too anxious to get within the shelter of the bedroom, to notice anything amiss. She whirled up the bag, threw it over her shoulder, as she had seen the men do with their nets, and danced off. Following her quickly, Mrs. Wright shut and barricaded the door. More than that. With Estelle's assistance, she drew the chest of drawers across it. The window was too high for danger to threaten from that quarter. With a sigh of relief she sat down, after a glance into one of the drawers. Jack's pistols were there, safe enough, in case they should be wanted. She would load them as soon as the child was asleep. She left the two candles alight.
'Are you not going to bed, too?' asked Estelle, as she opened her sleepy eyes a few minutes later.
'Not just yet, dearie. It is early for me. But you get to sleep as fast as you can.'
She remained perfectly still, holding the little girl's hand. In the deep silence her hearing became acute, but for some time she could not detect the faintest movement. Hope had begun to spring up. Perhaps, after all, the bookcase had proved too heavy. Dared she venture to go to bed? Drawing her hand gently from Estelle's relaxed hold, she rose softly—then stopped. The dreaded sound! The door-handle was turned gently!