“Oh, no,” said the girl. “He’s got bottles and glass things in there. And he won’t let me clean it. Miss Miriam does it. Only Miss Miriam and the nurse are allowed to go into the studio. And if you want smells,” she added with vehemence, “that’s the place to get them. He says it’s chemical experiments. Me and the cook think it’s dreadful.”

“Oh,” said Susan. I’ve got to go, thought Susan, blindly. I’ve got to leave. I’ve got to get out of here now. At once. Will they try to stop me? And I have no proof.

The girl was looking worried.

“What’s the matter, miss? Have I done anything wrong?”

“No, no,” said Susan sharply. “It’s all right. Do your parents live near here?”

“Two miles away.”

“You’d better go to them at once. Walk. Make some excuse. Don’t tell anyone you have talked to me. But go.”

“G-go”—stammered the girl looking frightened. “Now?”

Somehow, tersely, Susan convinced her and watched her scuttle anxiously downstairs. (Besides she would be a valuable witness.) And still there was no proof. And no time to be lost.

The house was silent all around her. The hall empty, but shadowy and narrow. Which was Rosina’s room?

She found it after opening doors to several cold, darkened bedrooms. The nurse’s red-lined cape was across a chair. Her books on a table: powder and creams and bottles quite evidently belonging to the nurse and not to Miriam, on the dressing table. In an adjoining bathroom were other things: a bathing cap, bath salts, sponge, tooth paste. She was exploring a large jar of bath powder with a cautious forefinger when there was a small rustle and Rosina herself stood in the doorway, eyes blazing.

“What are you doing in my things?”

“Searching,” said Susan with false airiness.

“Searching! What for? I’ve nothing to conceal. I wish you’d get out of here.”

“Nothing,” said Susan, “would suit me better. Look here, when are you planning to be married?”

Rosina blinked.

“I don’t know. Next summer. Why?”

“Why not immediately?”

“Why, I—we haven’t—”

“Is there anything to prevent an immediate marriage?”

“Why—no! Certainly not!”

“Could you be married next week?”

“Y-yes. Yes, of course.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Susan permitted herself to look incredulous. “Are you sure?” she said very softly.

For a long moment the nurse’s fine black eyes blazed into Susan’s. Then she said furiously:

“Certainly. It’s no affair of yours, but you might like to know, since you are so officious, that that is exactly what I’m going to do. I shall be married, Miss Snoopy Dare, tomorrow.”

They stepped out into the hall and Rosina banged her door and, furious, went downstairs. Susan waited and then returned once more to the same room.