There would never be a better chance.
Rachel crept up the steps. If she should be seen!
She was not; but a footstep rang somewhere in the night, and on that the
key was fitted and the door opened without another moment's hesitation.
Rachel entered, the door shut noisily behind her, and then her own step
rang in turn upon the floor. It was bare boards; and as Rachel felt her
way to the electric switches, beyond the dining-room door, her fingers
missed the pictures on the walls. This prepared her for what she found
when the white light sprang out above her head. The house had been
dismantled; not a stick in the rooms, not so much as a stair-rod on the
stairs, nor a blind to the window at their head.
The furniture removed while the use of it belonged legally to her! Had
they made so sure of her conviction as all that? Rachel's blood came
straight from zero to the boil; this was monstrous, this was illegal and
wicked. The house was hers for other two months; and there were things
of hers in it, she had left everything behind her. If they had been
removed, then this outrage was little short of felony, and she would
invoke the law from whose clutches she herself had escaped.
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