She watched him, puzzled, wondering why he made no comment on her last statement.
"Do you know where there are any blue-prints of the house?" she asked at last.
An odd light glittered in Fleming's eyes for a moment. Then it vanished--he held himself in check--the casual idler again.
"Blue-prints?" He seemed to think it over. "Why--there may be some. Have you looked in the old secretary in the library? My uncle used to keep all sorts of papers there," he said with apparent helpfulness.
"Why, don't you remember--you locked it when we took the house."
"So I did." Fleming took out his key ring, selected a key. "Suppose you go and look," he said. "Don't you think I'd better stay here?"
"Oh, yes--" said Dale, blinded to everything else by the rising hope in her heart. "Oh, I can hardly thank you enough!" and before he could even reply, she had taken the key and was hurrying toward the hall door.
He watched her leave the room, a bleak smile on his face. As soon as she had closed the door behind her, his languor dropped from him. He became a hound--a ferret--questing for its prey. He ran lightly over to the bookcase by the hall door--a moment's inspection--he shook his head. Perhaps the other bookcase near the French windows--no--it wasn't there. Ah, the bookcase over the fireplace! He remembered now! He made for it, hastily swept the books from the top shelf, reached groping fingers into the space behind the second row of books. There! A dusty roll of three blue-prints! He unrolled them hurriedly and tried to make out the white tracings by the light of the fire--no--better take them over to the candle on the table.
He peered at them hungrily in the little spot of light thrown by the candle. The first one--no--nor the second--but the third--the bottom one--good heavens! He took in the significance of the blurred white lines with greedy eyes, his lips opening in a silent exclamation of triumph. Then he pondered for an instant, the blue-print itself--was an awkward size--bulky--good, he had it! He carefully tore a small portion from the third blue-print and was about to stuff it in the inside pocket of his dinner jacket when Dale, returning, caught him before he had time to conceal his find. She took in the situation at once.
"Oh, you found it!" she said in tones of rejoicing, giving him back the key to the secretary. Then, as he still made no move to transfer the scrap of blue paper to her, "Please let me have it, Mr. Fleming. I know that's it."