There were three rugs upon the polished
floor and nothing else except a yawning stairway and closed doors.
Whatever servants might be in attendance were evidently in a distant
part of the building. Not a sound was to be heard. Still without any
lack of courage, but oppressed with that curious sense of unreality, she
turned almost automatically towards the door on the left and opened it.
Again it closed behind her noiselessly. She realised that she was in one
of the principal reception rooms of the house, dimly lit as the hall
from a dome-shaped globe set into the ceiling. She moved a yard or two
across the threshold and stood looking about her. Here again there was
an almost singular absence of furniture. The walls were hung with
apple-green silk, richly embroidered. There were some rugs upon the
polished floor, a few quaintly carved chairs set with their backs
against the wall, and opposite to her the ebony cabinet of which La
Belle Nita had spoken. She moved towards it. Somehow or other, she found
herself with the other key in her hand, stooping down. She counted the
drawers--one, two three--fitted in the key, turned it, and realised with
a little start the presence in the drawer of a roll of parchment, tied
around with tape and sealed with a black seal. She laid her hand upon
it, but even at that moment she felt a shiver pass through her body.
There had been no sound in the room, which she could have sworn had been
empty when she entered it, yet she had now a conviction that she was not
alone.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157