Page:The Yellow Book - 13.djvu/131

Rh dragged the worn shawl which acted as coverlet over her shoulders, and threw herself, all dressed as she was, on the bed.

She did not know how long she had slept, when a familiar sound startled her. It was the well-known noise of shuffling feet on the landing outside, accompanied by a thick voice muttering somewhat superfluous imprecations to the four walls.

Mrs. Reinhart held her breath to listen. It was her son! He had returned then; his money must be spent. What if just to-night he should force his way in? Surely that was his hand on the door handle? She could feel nothing but the throb of her heart the following moments in her intense anxiety to catch the next sound. It came after what seemed a laggard interval. A shuffle, another exclamation, then the grating of a match, and while her heart stood still, a chink of light flashed, steadied itself, and then fell through the long crack in one of the upper panels of her door. It formed a streak in the darkness which cut a clean shaft of light across the room, and for nine or ten seconds illumined with a lurid ray the empty desk still open on the table.

The woman on the bed set her teeth. A grim expression passed into her eyes. No one had dreamed, and least of all herself, that there was any latent force in her. Yet the very shape and form of the open desk seemed visible to Mrs. Reinhart long after there was silence in her son's room, and when the phantom tap of the skeleton tree on the window and the dull moan of the wind in the chimney were the only sounds which reached her ears. It haunted her as the grey light of the dawning smote the rain-stained window, and when the sparrows' noisy chirrup advertised that the gruesome night was at an end.

It was the signal for her to slip on to her feet. Where was the letter from Sweden? Yes; a glance at it showed her that it was the day the boat sailed. She would keep it by her for reference. Rh