The pain was awful.
I screamed.
He went on. I screamed and screamed, but I managed to shriek out things in French.
I don’t know how long I could have gone on, but luckily I fainted.
The last thing I heard was his voice saying:
‘That’s not bluff!
Anyway, a kid of her age wouldn’t know enough.’
I guess he forgot American girls are older for their age than English ones, and take more interest in scientific subjects.
“When I came to, Mrs. Vandemeyer was sweet as honey to me.
She’d had her orders, I guess.
She spoke to me in French—told me I’d had a shock and been very ill. I should be better soon.
I pretended to be rather dazed—murmured something about the ‘doctor’ having hurt my wrist.
She looked relieved when I said that.
“By and by she went out of the room altogether.
I was suspicious still, and lay quite quiet for some time.
In the end, however, I got up and walked round the room, examining it.
I thought that even if anyone was watching me from somewhere, it would seem natural enough under the circumstances.
It was a squalid, dirty place.
There were no windows, which seemed queer.
I guessed the door would be locked, but I didn’t try it.
There were some battered old pictures on the walls, representing scenes from Faust.”
Jane’s two listeners gave a simultaneous
“Ah!”
The girl nodded.
“Yes—it was the place in Soho where Mr. Beresford was imprisoned.
Of course, at the time I didn’t even know if I was in London.
One thing was worrying me dreadfully, but my heart gave a great throb of relief when I saw my ulster lying carelessly over the back of a chair.
And the magazine was still rolled up in the pocket!
“If only I could be certain that I was not being overlooked!
I looked carefully round the walls. There didn’t seem to be a peep-hole of any kind—nevertheless I felt kind of sure there must be.
All of a sudden I sat down on the edge of the table, and put my face in my hands, sobbing out a
‘Mon Dieu!
Mon Dieu!’
I’ve got very sharp ears. I distinctly heard the rustle of a dress, and slight creak.
That was enough for me.
I was being watched!
“I lay down on the bed again, and by and by Mrs. Vandemeyer brought me some supper.
She was still sweet as they make them.
I guess she’d been told to win my confidence.
Presently she produced the oilskin packet, and asked me if I recognized it, watching me like a lynx all the time.
“I took it and turned it over in a puzzled sort of way.
Then I shook my head. I said that I felt I ought to remember something about it, that it was just as though it was all coming back, and then, before I could get hold of it, it went again.
Then she told me that I was her niece, and that I was to call her ‘Aunt Rita.’
I did obediently, and she told me not to worry—my memory would soon come back.
“That was an awful night.
I’d made my plan whilst I was waiting for her.
The papers were safe so far, but I couldn’t take the risk of leaving them there any longer.
They might throw that magazine away any minute.
I lay awake waiting until I judged it must be about two o’clock in the morning. Then I got up as softly as I could, and felt in the dark along the left-hand wall.
Very gently, I unhooked one of the pictures from its nail—Marguerite with her casket of jewels.