"Then, just before dinner he was putting some papers in the
safe. Oh, if Grimes had only come in a moment sooner to announce
dinner, I might have had a chance to look in the safe before father
closed the door."
Whatever reply Barbara intended making was checked by the rattling
of the knob of the hall door; it turned slowly, the door opened and,
pushing aside the portieres drawn across the entrance, Margaret
Brewster glided in. "So glad to find you," she cooed. "But why
have you closed up the room and turned on all the lights?"
"To see better," retorted Barbara promptly as the widow's eyes roved
around the large room, taking silent note of the drawn curtains and
portieres, and the somewhat disarranged furniture. "Come inside,
Margaret, and help us in our search."
"For what?" The widow tried to keep her tone natural, but a certain
shrill alertness crept into it and Barbara, who was watching her
closely, was quick to detect the change. Helen's color altered at
the question, and she observed the widow's entrance with veiled
hostility.
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