The office now bore little sign of their invasion of it, and, drawing a deep breath, Dorothy schooled herself to calmness as she awaited Moran, who was walking down the hall toward the entrance to the room. A plan had flashed into her mind by means of which she might save both Wade and herself, if he and her heart would only be quiet. The unruly heart was beating so violently that it shook her thin dress, and that her voice must tremble, she knew.
Moran was almost at the threshold, when Dorothy opened the door for him.
"Good evening, Mr. Moran. Did I startle you?"
"Well, not exactly," he said, striking a match, after an instant's pause. "What are you doing here?"
Passing her, he lighted the large oil lamp, and swept the room with a quick, keen glance. Finding nothing apparently wrong, he turned again to his visitor with a puzzled expression in his face.
"Well?"
"I wanted to see you and I thought you'd be here. The door was unlocked so I just walked in. I've been here only a minute or two." Fortified by another deep breath, drawn while his back was turned, Dorothy found her voice steadier than she expected.
The agent looked at her keenly.
"That's strange," he commented. "I don't know what the door was doing unlocked. I always lock it when I leave."