There remained as a final precaution only a grand tour of the flat; which
she made expeditiously, passing swiftly and noiselessly (one contemplating
midnight raids does not attire one's self in silks and starched things)
from room to room, all comfortably empty. Satisfied at last, she found
herself again in the study, and now boldly, mind at rest, lighted the brass
student lamp with the green shade, which she discovered on the desk.

Standing, hands resting lightly on hips, breath coming quickly, cheeks
flushed and eyes alight with some intimate and inscrutable emotion,
she surveyed the room. Out of the dusk that lay beyond the plash of
illumination beneath the lamp, the furniture began to take on familiar
shapes: the divans, the heavy leather-cushioned easy chairs, the tall clock
with its pallid staring face, the small tables and tabourettes, handily
disposed for the reception of books and magazines and pipes and glasses,
the towering, old-fashioned mahogany book-case, the useless, ornamental,
beautiful Chippendale escritoire, in one corner: all somberly shadowed and
all combining to diffuse an impression of quiet, easy-going comfort.

Just such a study as _he_ would naturally have. She nodded silent
approbation of it as a whole. And, nodding, sat down at the desk, planting
elbows on its polished surface, interlacing her fingers and cradling her
chin upon their backs: turned suddenly pensive.

The mood held her but briefly. She had no time to waste, and much to
accomplish.... Sitting back, her fingers sought and pressed the clasp of
her hand-bag, and produced two articles--a golden cigarette case and a
slightly soiled canvas bag. The Maitland jewels were returning by a devious
way, to their owner.