He ran up stairs, two steps at a time, and Elizabeth was obliged to follow him, though sorely against her will. What could it all mean? Why had he come, and why must he not be seen?
He went to the room which he had occupied when he was there a year ago.
"I will wait here," he said, "while you go and try to find the key, and if you can't find it, we will pick the lock."
"But why must you hide, Val? Why don't you just stay downstairs and tell Aunt Caroline you have come to make us a visit? She won't mind. She is not nearly as strict as she used to be, but she would mind dreadfully if she were to find you in the locked room."
"She won't find me there; that is, not if you have any sense. Of course if you spoil it all, that is a different thing. I wish you were Marjorie. She would have understood in a minute. But she will never be here again to help me—"
A lump came into Val's throat as he said this, and he was silent for a moment. Then he said,
"Well, are you going?"
"Yes."
The allusion to Marjorie was too much for Elizabeth. She went down to her aunt's room and walked to the desk. She would at least do this for Val. Then she would tell him that she could not open the desk, and that he must give up the idea.
But what did she see? She rubbed her eyes and looked again. The key of the desk was in the lock!