“Martha!”

“Well, I wasn’t here when he first came, but when I opened the door he was peeking behind the china.”

“But I had not been inside my room a minute before I heard your voice.  How could he have taken it?  You don’t think—­”

“I don’t say what I think, because I don’t know, but he’s mean enough to do anything he could to hurt you.  How long had he been talking to you when I came in?”

“Just long enough for me to run past him and lock myself in.”

“And how long do you think it would take him to steal it, if he thought nobody was looking?”

“But he could not have stolen it, Martha; he was on the other side of the room.  The box is by the door where I left it; you can see it for yourself.  Oh what shall I do?  Where could I have dropped it?  It must be at the store in that bundle.  Mr. Mangan said I need not wait, and I did not see him open it.  He has found it by this time and he is waiting for me.  I will go right away and see him.  Anybody could make a mistake like that.  He must—­he will understand when I explain it all.  Get my cloak and hat, please, Martha.  I will take the car up and back, and you can have my coffee ready for me upon my return.  I won’t be half an hour.  Oh! how awful it is, how awful!  If I had only found it out last night!  I had meant to work, but I could not after what happened.  Mr. Mangan was very much put out yesterday, and I know he will be furious to-day.  No, you need not come with me,” and she was gone.

Martha closed the door, walked to the window, and stood looking through the panes until the slight figure had reached the street, where she caught up her skirt, to free her steps the better, and started on a run for the car line.  When the fragile form was lost in the whirl of the traffic, Martha walked slowly to the table and sank into a chair, her elbows resting on its top, her face in her hand.

The next instant she was on her feet examining Lady Barbara’s work-basket, wondering what Dalton had found in it, wondering, too, why he had looked through it.  Crossing to the dresser, she moved the plates and cups, as he had done, searching for a possible note, or perhaps for a duplicate key of their former apartment which he might have left for Barbara, and then moved toward the door of the smaller chamber, behind which her mistress had lain shivering.  Her eye now fell on the box, the lid awry.  She remembered that this lid had been in that same position when she had ordered the intruder from the room, and that, at the time, she had thought it strange that Lady Barbara, always so careful, had not fastened it to keep the dust from its contents.  Stooping closer, she examined the various articles.  She noted that one sleeve of the lace blouse had been lifted from its place, while the other sleeve remained snug where her mistress had tucked it.  In pulling out one of the upper pieces, this sleeve must have been caught in its meshes and dragged clear.  This could only have been done by the mantilla which, she distinctly remembered, had been laid neatly on top the afternoon before, so as to be ready for work in the morning.