But Lizzie could bear no more.
"Why don't you read the funny page once in a while?" she wailed and hurried to close the windows in the billiard room. The door leading into the billiard room shut behind her.
Miss Cornelia remained reading for a moment. Then--was that a sound from the alcove? She dropped the paper, went into the alcove and stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs, listening. No--it must have been imagination. But, while she was here, she might as well put on the spring lock that bolted the door from the alcove to the terrace. She did so, returned to the living-room and switched off the lights for a moment to look out at the coming storm. It was closer now--the lightning flashes more continuous. She turned on the lights again as Billy re-entered with three candles and a box of matches.
He put them down on a side table.
"New gardener come," he said briefly to Miss Cornelia's back.
Miss Cornelia turned. "Nice hour for him to get here. What's his name?"
"Say his name Brook," said Billy, a little doubtful. English names still bothered him--he was never quite sure of them at first.
Miss Cornelia thought. "Ask him to come in," she said. "And Billy--where are the keys?"
Billy silently took two keys from his pocket and laid them on the table. Then he pointed to the terrace door which Miss Cornelia had just bolted.
"Door up there--spring lock," he said.
"Yes." She nodded. "And the new bolt you put on today makes it fairly secure. One thing is fairly sure, Billy. If anyone tries to get in tonight, he will have to break a window and make a certain amount of noise."
But he only smiled his curious enigmatic smile and went out. And no sooner had Miss Cornelia seated herself when the door of the billiard room slammed open suddenly and Lizzie burst into the room as if she had been shot from a gun--her hair wild--her face stricken with fear.
"I heard somebody yell out in the grounds--away down by the gate!" she informed her mistress in a loud stage whisper which had a curious note of pride in it, as if she were not too displeased at seeing her doleful predictions so swiftly coming to pass.
Miss Cornelia took her by the shoulder--half-startled, half-dubious.
"What did they yell?"
"Just yelled a yell!"
"Lizzie!"
"I heard them!"
But she had cried "Wolf!" too often.
"You take a liver pill," said her mistress disgustedly, "and go to bed."
Lizzie was about to protest both the verdict on her story and the judgment on herself when the door in the hall was opened by Billy to admit the new gardener. A handsome young fellow, in his late twenties, he came two steps into the room and then stood there respectfully with his cap in his hand, waiting for Miss Cornelia to speak to him.