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He was in the rear hall now, and now he opened a door, paused cautiously as the dull yellow glow from a dying grate fire illuminated the room faintly, then stepped inside. It was the Archman library, the room where David Archman did a great deal of his work at night A desk stood at the lower end of the room; and in the corner near the portiered windows was the lawyer's safe.
"Heart's Content" has been renaissanced, papered, tiled, portièred, utterly transformed, and is thought quite a show-place now and much admired; but there are some persons who liked it better when it was only an old-fashioned Virginian home, before their mahogany majesties the old furniture, and those courtly commoners Anne Buller and her brothers, had been swept away with all the other cumbering antiquities.
They were soft cheeks, smooth with the pollen of youth, and hands still casing them, she moved another step toward the portièred door. "Mamma!" Mrs. Coblenz emerged immediately, finger up for silence, kissing her daughter on the little spray of cheek-curls. "Shh-h-h! Gramaw just had a terrible spell."
Opposite the safe, and quite near the doorway in which she stood, was a window recess, portiered; diagonally across from her was another door that led, presumably, into the main hall of the house; the walls were tapestried, and hung here and there with clusters of ancient trophies, great metal shields, and swords, and curious arms, that gave a sort of barbaric splendor to the luxurious furnishings of the apartment.
Locke listened eagerly, glancing now and then at a photograph of Eva Brent on his own desk, while she chatted gaily with the inventor. It was evident that Eva had not the faintest idea of the hard nature of the business of her father. Meanwhile, Brent himself had left the library and passed through the portièred door into the hall.
When the servants had gone she still regarded the safe with the same wondering look, then turning out the light, she followed. She had scarcely disappeared when, from the portiered doorway nearby, the Clutching Hand appeared, and, after gazing out at them, took a quick look at the safe. "Good!" he muttered.
They were soft cheeks, smooth with the pollen of youth, and hands still casing them, she moved another step toward the portièred door. "Mama!" Mrs. Coblenz emerged immediately, finger up for silence, kissing her daughter on the little spray of cheek-curls. "'Shh-h-h! Gramaw just had a terrible spell."
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