they slept with all their windows open, the little breezes
wandering from among the trees of the Park to fan them. How they
laughed and enjoyed themselves over their supper, and how they
stretched themselves out with sighs of joy in the darkness as
they sank into the cool, untroubled waters of deep sleep.

"This is about the top notch," Jem murmured as he lost his hold
on the world of waking life and work.

But though she was cool, though she was undisturbed, though her
body rested in absolute repose, Judith did not sleep for a long
time. She lay and listened to the quietness. There was mystery in
it. The footstep of a belated passer-by in the street woke
strange echoes; a voice heard in the distance in a riotous shout
suggested weird things. And as she lay and listened, it was as if
she were not only listening but waiting for something. She did
not know at all what she was waiting for, but waiting she was.

She lay upon her cot with her arms flung out and her eyes wide
open. What was it that she wanted--that which was in the closed
room? Why had they locked the door? If they had locked the doors
of the big parlours it would not have mattered. If they had
locked the door of the library--Her mind paused--as if for a
moment, something held it still. Then she remembered that to have
locked the doors of the library would have been to lock in the
picture of the child with the greeting look in her eyes and the
fine little uplifted hand. She was glad the room had been left
open. But the room up-stairs--the one on the fourth floor--that
was the one that mattered most of all. She knew that to-morrow
she must go and stand at the door and press her cheek against the