But from her emanated something that made the usual conversation well nigh impossible. Had she shown her knowledge, the tension had been less. As it was, Jean pictured her father and mother in the chairs occupied by Derrick and Edith, heard the tones of a remembered voice, saw the same trim, straight figure moving with the same soundless precision—and could hardly forbear to cry out. When, a little later, she entered that other room of grim significance, it was with a feeling that almost amounted to relief. There was no Perkins here.
Derrick, whose eyes were unusually bright, waited till the maid had disappeared with the coffee-cups, then turned swiftly to Jean.
“Now we must act. Edith has given Perkins enough to keep her busy till half-past nine. That’s an hour. It was not safe to do anything here before this, so we must move things ourselves, and if possible without making a sound. One thing I want to ask: was your father dressed as in that picture?” He made a gesture toward the portrait.
“Yes, he always put on that coat after dinner.”
Derrick nodded, opened a drawer in the bottom of the desk, and produced a velveteen smoking-jacket.
“I thought that might be, so rooted out this old one of mine. Now we must shift the desk; then you can arrange the things on it. In a general way, are the contents of the room just the same?”
“Exactly, I think,” said the girl, after a swift scrutiny.
“Yes, always before dinner at this time of year.”
He gave a curious smile, “To-night I think we’ll leave it open.”
“How stupid, Jack!” interjected Edith, “and let the man escape.”
“He can’t, because he’ll be chained to the sergeant. It’s with another object. Now are you ready?”
Jean sent him a quick glance. She guessed the object, and it made her heart beat faster.
Gradually the room assumed its former appearance. Edith assisted with a businesslike, good-humored alacrity, in the manner of a housekeeper who helps to arrange a stage for young people’s tableaux. To her these were chairs, tables, and rugs, nothing more. She wondered a good deal why a practical man like Sergeant Burke should be willing to take part, a man responsible for the custody of his prisoner, then reflected that it was all rather queer, and there was no point in worrying about what one didn’t understand. The consoling phase of it was her conviction that this was the last act of the somewhat disconcerting drama of the past few months, that it would soon be followed by the wedding of two of the principals, and then her brother would settle down and get on with his work. The thing that really most bothered her was the lease of Beech Lodge. She knew that Jean would never live here again.