The results of the investigation by
no means satisfied her; brooms and dusters were set to work; and the
house-maids were in and out of the rooms perpetually, as long as the
daylight lasted.
The evening passed, and still the safe opportunity for which Magdalen
was on the watch never presented itself. Bed-time came again, and found
her placed between the two alternatives of trusting to the doubtful
chances of the next morning, or of trying the keys boldly in the dead
of night. In former times she would have made her choice without
hesitation. She hesitated now; but the wreck of her old courage still
sustained her, and she determined to make the venture at night.
They kept early hours at St. Crux. If she waited in her room until
half-past eleven, she would wait long enough. At that time she stole out
on to the staircase, with the keys in her pocket, and the candle in her
hand.
On passing the entrance to the corridor on the bedroom floor, she
stopped and listened. No sound of snoring, no shuffling of infirm
footsteps was to be heard on the other side of the screen. She looked
round it distrustfully. The stone passage was a solitude, and the
truckle-bed was empty.
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