With hearing grown extraordinarily acute I could trace every movement
she made about the room. Presently I knew she had come back to the
dressing-table again. Pulling up a chair, she sat down before it, to
finish, I suppose, the arranging of her hair.
For a few seconds there was a silence, during which I could hear the
thumping of my heart. Then came the faint rattling of paper. I knew when
she read the thing by the slight catch in her breath. I expected more
than that. I thought she would call out to her friend or otherwise give
an alarm. If she went to a telephone to summon the police I decided to
make a dash for it. Indeed, I meant to make a dash for it as it was, as
soon as I knew her next move.
But of all the next moves, the one she made was the one I had least
counted on. With a sudden tug at the hangings she pulled them apart—and I
was before her.
I was before her and she was before me. It is this latter detail of which
I have the most vivid recollection. In the matter of time all other
recollections of the moment seem to come after that and to be subsidiary
to it.
My immediate impression was of two enormous, wonderful, burning eyes,
full of amazement. Apart from the eyes I hardly saw anything. It was as
if the light of a dark lantern had been suddenly turned on me and I was
blinded by the blaze. I was blinded by the blaze and shriveled up in
it. No words can do justice to my sudden sense of being a contemptible,
loathsome reptile.
“’Sh!” was the first sound that came from her. She raised her hand.
“Don’t make a noise or you’ll frighten my friend. She’s nervous already.”
Instinctively I pulled off my cap, stepping out of my hiding-place into
the middle of the room. As I did so she recoiled, supporting herself by
a hand on the writing-desk. Now that the discovery was made, I could see
her grow pale, while the hand on the desk trembled.
“You mustn’t be afraid,” I began to whisper.
“I’m not afraid,” she whispered back; “but—but what are you doing here?”
“I’ll show you,” I returned, with shamefaced quietness. “I shall also
show you that if you’ll let me go without giving an alarm you won’t be
sorry.”
Pulling all the things I had stolen out of my pocket, I showered them on
the dressing-table.
“Oh!”
The smothered exclamation made it plain to me that she hadn’t missed the
articles.
“May I ask you to verify them?” I went on. “If you should find later
that something had disappeared, I shouldn’t like you to think that I had
carried it away.”
She made a feint at examining the jewelry, but I could see that she was
incapable of making anything like a count. It was I who insisted on going
over the objects one by one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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