mplicity ended and her
cunning began? She had also the faculty of never forgetting any fact
bearing upon her one idea; and I remembered now that the conversation
with me about the will had produced on her an indelible impression of the
Law's surprising justice. Recalling her naive admiration of the "just"
law that required no "paper" from a sister, I saw her casting loose the
raging fate with a sanctimonious air. And Therese would naturally give
the key of the fencing-room to her dear, virtuous, grateful,
disinterested cousin, to that damned soul with delicate whiskers, because
she would think it just possible that Rita might have locked the door
leading front her room into the hall; whereas there was no earthly
reason, not the slightest likelihood, that she would bother about the
other. Righteousness demanded that the erring sister should be taken
unawares.

All the above is the analysis of one short moment. Images are to words
like light to sound--incomparably swifter. And all this was really one
flash of light through my mind. A comforting thought succeeded it: that
both doors were locked and that really there was no danger.

However, there had been that noise--the why and the how of it? Of course
in the dark he might have fallen into the bath, but that wouldn't have
been a faint noise. It wouldn't have been a rattle. There was
absolutely nothing he could knock over. He might have dropped a
candle-stick if Therese had left him her own. That was possible, but
then those thick mats--and then, anyway, why should he drop it? and, hang
it all, why shouldn't he have gone straight on and tried the door? I had
suddenly a sickening vision of the fellow crouching at the key-hole,
listening, listening, listening, for some movement or sigh of the sleeper
he was ready to tear away from the world, alive or dead. I had a
conviction that he was still listening. Why? Goodness knows! He may
have been only gloating over the assurance that the night was long and
that he had all these hours to himself.

I was pretty certain that he could have heard nothing of our whispers,
the room was too big for that and the door too solid. I hadn't the same
confidence in the efficiency of the lock. Still I . . . Guarding my lips
with my hand I urged Dona Rita to go back to the sofa. She wouldn't
answer me and when I got hold of her arm I discovered that she wouldn't
move. She had taken root in that thick-pile Aubusson carpet; an