The Golden Slipper | Page 5

the rest? Perhaps the
lights would tell. Eagerly the little schemer looked forth, and let her
glances travel down the full length of the balcony. Two separate beams
of light shot across it as she looked, and presently another, and, after
some waiting, a fourth. But the fifth failed to appear. This troubled her,
but not seriously. Two of the girls might be sleeping in one bed.

Drawing her shade, she finished her preparations for the night; then
with her kimono on, lifted the pendant and thrust it into a small box she
had taken from her trunk. A curious smile, very unlike any she had
shown to man or woman that day, gave a sarcastic lift to her lips, as
with a slow and thoughtful manipulation of her dainty fingers she
moved the jewel about in this small receptacle and then returned it,
after one quick examining glance, to the very spot on the dresser from
which she had taken it. "If only the madness is great enough!" that
smile seemed to say. Truly, it was much to hope for, but a chance is a
chance; and comforting herself with the thought, Miss Strange put out
her light, and, with a hasty raising of the shade she had previously
pulled down, took a final look at the prospect.
Its aspect made her shudder. A low fog was rising from the meadows in
the far distance, and its ghostliness under the moon woke all sorts of
uncanny images in her excited mind. To escape them she crept into bed
where she lay with her eyes on the end of her dresser. She had closed
that half of the French window over which she had drawn the shade;
but she had left ajar the one giving free access to the jewels; and when
she was not watching the scintillation of her sapphires in the moonlight,
she was dwelling in fixed attention on this narrow opening.
But nothing happened, and two o'clock, then three o'clock struck,
without a dimming of the blue scintillations on the end of her dresser.
Then she suddenly sat up. Not that she heard anything new, but that a
thought had come to her. "If an attempt is made," so she murmured
softly to herself, "it will be by--" She did not finish. Something--she
could not call it sound--set her heart beating tumultuously, and
listening--listening--watching-- watching--she followed in her
imagination the approach down the balcony of an almost inaudible step,
not daring to move herself, it seemed so near, but waiting with eyes
fixed, for the shadow which must fall across the shade she had failed to
raise over that half of the swinging window she had so carefully left
shut.
At length she saw it projecting slowly across the slightly illuminated
surface. Formless, save for the outreaching hand, it passed the

casement's edge, nearing with pauses and hesitations the open gap
beyond through which the neglected sapphires beamed with steady
lustre. Would she ever see the hand itself appear between the dresser
and the window frame? Yes, there it comes,-- small, delicate, and
startlingly white, threading that gap-- darting with the suddenness of a
serpent's tongue toward the dresser and disappearing again with the
pendant in its clutch.
As she realizes this,--she is but young, you know,--as she sees her bait
taken and the hardly expected event fulfilled, her pent- up breath sped
forth in a sigh which sent the intruder flying, and so startled herself that
she sank back in terror on her pillow.
The breakfast-call had sounded its musical chimes through the halls.
The Ambassador and his wife had responded, so had most of the young
gentlemen and ladies, but the daughter of the house was not amongst
them, nor Miss Strange, whom one would naturally expect to see down
first of all.
These two absences puzzled Mr. Driscoll. What might they not portend?
But his suspense, at least in one regard, was short. Before his guests
were well seated, Miss Driscoll entered from the terrace in company
with Captain Holliday. In her arms she carried a huge bunch of roses
and was looking very beautiful. Her father's heart warmed at the sight.
No shadow from the night rested upon her.
But Miss Strange!--where was she? He could not feel quite easy till he
knew.
"Have any of you seen Miss Strange?" he asked, as they sat down at
table. And his eyes sought the Inseparables.
Five lovely heads were shaken, some carelessly, some wonderingly,
and one, with a quick, forced smile. But he was in no mood to
discriminate, and he had beckoned one of the servants to him, when a
step was heard at the door and the delinquent slid in and took her place,
in a shamefaced manner suggestive of a cause deeper than