“No, no,” he said. “I can’t expect my guests to expose themselves to the risk of being shot. Don’t you be alarmed,” he said solicitously, “I shall be at hand in case of trouble.”
When she reached her room she sat motionless for a few moments on the edge of the bed. Then suddenly, she rose and walked along a corridor and knocked at the door of the room she knew was Alice Harrington’s.
“Alice,” she said nervously, and there was no doubt in the elder woman’s mind that the girl was thoroughly upset, “I’m nervous of sleeping in the room you’ve given me. Can’t I sleep somewhere near people? Let me have that room I had the last time I was here.”
“Why, my dear girl, of course, if you want it,” Alice said sympathetically. “But it isn’t as pretty, and I especially had this bigger room for you. Don’t be a silly little girl; you’ll be asleep in five minutes. Better still, I’ll come and read till you’re drowsy.”
“Please humor me,” the other pleaded. “I’d rather be where, if I scream, someone can hear, and the men are sleeping down there, and one after all does depend on them in emergencies.”
“All right,” Alice said good-humoredly, “I’ll ring for the servants to take your things in.”
“We can do it,” Ethel said eagerly. “I’ve only one cabin trunk, and it weighs nothing. Why disturb them?”
When they had moved the baggage down the halls to the smaller room, there was no key to lock the door which led to a connecting room.
“Whose is that?” Ethel demanded.
“Mr. Denby’s,” she was told. “I always give men big rooms, because they’re so untidy. Michael will know where the key is. He has every one of the hundred keys with a neat label on it. He’s so methodical in some things. By the time you’re ready for bed I’ll have it.”