Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/285

Rh sleeper. She was still there, and still dead to the world.

I stared at the bed, but all I could make out was the tumbled mass of the woman's hair, and the vague contour of her body under the billowy counterpane. And I had no desire to disturb that child-like and placid sleeper. On the other hand, I did not care to think of her disturbing me. So I reached in, noiselessly lifted out the key, and quietly closed the door. Then, having locked it from the outside, I slipped into the room of delft blue and proceeded to lock myself in.

After that I felt more at my ease, even though I couldn't quite shake off the thought that I was now something worse than an intruder. I was enough at home, however, not only to re-explore the ivory-white bathroom with the sunken tub of Italian marble, which opened off my room, but to unearth a cake of real Roger et Gallet soap and take a cold shower. After that I scrambled into my clothes and sampled the powder in the little azure bowl. For there was no knowing what might turn up, at any moment, in that house of silence.

Now that I'd had time to think things over, indeed, I felt a good deal like Golden-Locks in the house of the three bears. I was eager enough to