“He always hates to see the place shrouded up like that,” she said. “I’ll put these away again.”

The door closed behind her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE days slipped by quietly into July, and at first Aunt Effie credited Sabrina’s apparent contentment to the happy inspiration of producing Muffin at the psychological moment. Then gradually it dawned on her that Sabrina was using the room again, and that it must be with Mrs. Pilton’s consent.

For a few more days Aunt Effie hoped she was wrong, pretended not to notice, put off bringing the matter up. One night, quite late, when Sabrina supposedly had gone to bed, Aunt Effie remembered that she had left her gardening shears and basket out in the dew at the edge of the border and ran out to fetch them in. As she returned to the house she saw a line of light between the curtains of the room at the top of the house, and she made up her mind to take a firm stand. If Sabrina was up there at this hour, reading...

She went into the house and climbed the stairs, Bella pattering at her heels. Sabrina’s room was lighted behind a closed door, but Aunt Effie passed it by and came to the second flight. There Bella balked.

“Come along, pettie,” said Aunt Effie over her shoulder, from the fourth step up.

“Woof!” said Bella in a mere whisper at the bottom.

“Come, Bella,” Aunt Effie insisted, but Bella made odd small noises in her throat and stayed where she was.

Aunt Effie felt a little queer. The lights were certainly on, and so the door must have been unlocked. Gathering herself together, she went on up the stairs, laid her hand on the knob and opened the door.

“Sabrina?” she said uncertainly.

The brightly lighted room was empty.

Hilary had had time to lay down his book and retreat to the farthest corner by the chest of drawers when he heard her coming. He realized that to turn off the lights, too late, would only have given her the added fright of facing a dark room, and created an added mystery.

Aunt Effie gazed about her unhappily for a moment, and then found the master switch near the door and pressed it. She closed the door hastily and hastily descended the stairs to the passage, where Bella welcomed her as though she had returned from the North Pole.

For once oblivious of the little dog, Aunt Effie went to Sabrina’s door, knocked, and put her head in. Sabrina was reading in bed, and turned a smiling, innocent face towards her visitor.

“Hello, Auntie,” she said. “Going to bed now?”

Aunt Effie glanced behind her into the passage and then spoke in a lowered voice.

“Sabrina—when were you in that room last?”

With only an instant’s hesitation, Sabrina told the truth.

“This afternoon.”

“Before dark?”

“Yes, Auntie.”