She now recovered
it the instant the table attracted her attention. It was useless to
waste time in trying to choose the one key wanted from the rest--the one
key was not well enough known to her to be readily identified. She took
all the keys from the table, in the basket as they lay, and noiselessly
closed the door behind her on leaving the room.
The truckle-bed, as she passed it, obtruded itself again on
her attention, and forced her to think of it. After a moment's
consideration, she moved the foot of the bed back to its customary
position across the door. Whether he was in the house or out of it, the
veteran might return to his deserted post at any moment. If he saw the
bed moved from its usual place, he might suspect something wrong, he
might rouse his master, and the loss of the keys might be discovered.
Nothing happened as she descended the stairs, nothing happened as she
passed along the corridor; the house was as silent and as solitary as
ever. She crossed the Banqueting-Hall this time without hesitation; the
events of the night had hardened her mind against all imaginary terrors.
"Now, I have got it!" she whispered to herself, in an irrepressible
outburst of exaltation, as she entered the first of the east rooms and
put her candle on the top of the old bureau.
Pages:
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104