She whispered: “Get Eric.”
I nodded and ran out and knocked on his door. In a minute he was with us. Mrs. Leidner was sitting on my bed, her breath coming in great gasps.
“I heard him,” she said. “I heard him—scratching on the wall.”
“Someone in the antika room?” cried Dr. Leidner.
He ran out quickly—and it just flashed across my mind how differently these two had reacted. Mrs. Leidner’s fear was entirely pe
rsonal, but Dr. Leidner’s mind leaped at once to his precious treasures.
“The antika room!” breathed Mrs. Leidner. “Of course! How stupid of me!”
And rising and pulling her gown round her, she bade me come with her. All traces of her panic-stricken fear had vanished.
We arrived in the antika room to find Dr. Leidner and Father Lavigny. The latter had also heard a noise, had risen to investigate, and had fancied he saw a light in the antika room. He had delayed to put on slippers and snatch up a torch and had found no one by the time he got there. The door, moreover, was duly locked, as it was supposed to be at night.
Whilst he was assuring himself that nothing had been taken, Dr. Leidner had joined him.
Nothing more was to be learned. The outside archway door was locked. The guard swore nobody could have got in from outside, but as they had probably been fast asleep this was not conclusive. There were no marks or traces of an intruder and nothing had been taken.
It was possible that what had alarmed Mrs. Leidner was the noise made by Father Lavigny taking down boxes from the shelves to assure himself that all was in order.
On the other hand, Father Lavigny himself was positive that he had (a) heard footsteps passing his window and (b) seen the flicker of a light, possibly a torch, in the antika room.
Nobody else had heard or seen anything.
The incident is of value in my narrative because it led to Mrs. Leidner’s unburdening herself to me on the following day.
Nine
MRS. LEIDNER’S STORY
We had just finished lunch. Mrs. Leidner went to her room to rest as usual. I settled her on her bed with plenty of pillows and her book, and was leaving the room when she called me back.
“Don’t go, nurse, there’s something I want to say to you.”
I came back into the room.
“Shut the door.”
I obeyed.
She got up from the bed and began to walk up and down the room. I could see that she was making up her mind to something and I didn’t like to interrupt her. She was clearly in great indecision of mind.
At last she seemed to have nerved herself to the required point. She turned to me and said abruptly: “Sit down.”
I sat down by the table very quietly. She began nervously: “You must have wondered what all this is about?”
I just nodded without saying anything.
“I’ve made up my mind to tell you—everything! I must tell someone or I shall go mad.”
“Well,” I said, “I think really it would be just as well. It’s not easy to know the best thing to do when one’s kept in the dark.”
She stopped in her uneasy walk and faced me.
“Do you know what I’m frightened of?”