Paula Lebetwood hesitated for a moment, then recommenced. “I think she was walking in her sleep.”
A note of surprise and pity came from all our mouths.
“Were her eyes open?” asked Mrs. Belvoir.
“Yes, with the darkest vagueness in them.”
“Didn’t she recognize you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“You see, it all happened so quickly. Only a couple of seconds after I had roused myself the clock in the Hall of the Moth commenced ringing midnight. Millicent stopped for a moment and put her hand to her heart, a queer thing, I thought. ‘It’s his music,’ she said, and made for the door.”
Renewed exclamations of surprise attested our close-held interest.
“She ran down the hall—”