"This letter is--ominous. Have you any enemies?"
"Don't insult me! Of course I have. Enemies are an indication of
character."
The Doctor's smile held both masculine pity and equally masculine
exasperation. He went on more gently.
"Why not accept my hospitality in the village to-night?" he proposed
reasonably. "It's a little house but I'll make you comfortable.
Or," he threw out his hands in the gesture of one who reasons with
a willful child, "if you won't come to me, let me stay here!"
Miss Cornelia hesitated for an instant. The proposition seemed
logical enough--more than that--sensible, safe. And yet, some
indefinable feeling--hardly strong enough to be called a premonition
--kept her from accepting it. Besides, she knew what the Doctor
did not, that help was waiting across the hall in the library.
"Thank you, no, Doctor," she said briskly, before she had time to
change her mind. "I'm not easily frightened. And tomorrow I intend
to equip this entire house with burglar alarms on doors and windows!"
she went on defiantly. The incident, as far as she was concerned,
was closed. She moved on into the alcove. The Doctor stared at her,
shaking his head.
She tried the terrace door. "There, I knew it!" she said
triumphantly. "Doctor--you didn't fasten that bolt!"
The Doctor seemed a little taken aback. "Oh--I'm sorry--" he said.
"You only pushed it part of the way," she explained. She completed
the task and stepped back into the living-room.
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