She glanced at the paper she had captured--and her countenance was changed. Something was flashed to each other by the married couple's two pairs of eyes. Then the countess crushed the sheet of paper in her hand, and, without a word to her husband, went on with the duchess. CHAPTER XXII The Countess and Violet Miss Forster's bedroom door was gently opened, and the Countess of Cantyre went softly in. She closed the door as gently as she had opened it, and, remaining motionless, looked inquiringly about her. All was still. The curtains had not yet been drawn. In the apartment, despite its size, was the stuffy smell which comes to a bedroom when the windows have not been opened through the night. Her ladyship, crossing the room, drew the curtains and threw the windows wide open. It was a lovely day; the clean, fresh air came pouring in. The room looked on to the park, over a waving expanse of green which stretched as far as the eye could reach. She stood for a moment to enjoy the glory of the morning. "That's better," she said out loud. Then she turned to the bed. Miss Forster's form was dimly outlined beneath the clothes. She had not moved when her visitor entered, or even when the windows were thrown open. She was either sleeping very soundly or she refused to allow herself to notice what was going on. The countess, going to the side of the bed towards which her face was turned, stood waiting for her to show some signs of life. Presently there was a slight movement beneath the clothes, and a faint voice inquired: "Who's that?" "You know very well who it is." "Margaret, is that you?" "You know very well it's me. Who but me would take the liberty of coming into your room, drawing the curtains and opening the windows and letting in the air? If you only knew what an atmosphere you've been living in! Do you always sleep with your windows closed?" The only answer was a sound which might have meant anything, followed by a movement beneath the clothes. "How's the foot?" "It seems better." The words were whispered rather than spoken. "How are you?" "I'm all right." "You don't sound as if you were all right. What's become of your voice? And, if you are all right, what are you doing in bed at this hour of the day?" "I was just going to get up." "Were you? That's good news. There were no immediate signs of it that I could see. Vi, you and I are going yachting." "Going what?" "Yachting. I said yachting. Do you want me to shout? We are leaving here to-day; we are starting on the _Sea Bird_ to-morrow for wherever Captain Slocock likes to take us; you and I alone together." "Are we?" "Yes, we are. Is that the dying-duck-in-a-thunderstorm sort of fashion in which you take my surprising piece of information? Move some of those bedclothes and let me see your face, or, if you won't, I will."