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Slowly, watchfully, she detached herself from the shadows and came into the room. Her attitude was that of both fear and menace, as when one comes upon a thief at work. She demanded, "What are you doing?" but she had no doubt of his thievery.

Said McGuire, almost too smoothly to be convincing: "A fine question—in my own room!"

Through the veil he could see her eyes glisten. She was afraid, much as if she had caught him robbing her own drawers; and her attitude was that of a woman who will defend her own property, no matter with how much fear.

"This isn't your room"—her glance fell and rose from the scattered gold in the open drawer—"you thief!"

If she thought him merely a thief McGuire had nothing to fear from her; so, pleasantly, he asked, "Who do you think lives here, if not I?"

"I know who. You put that money right down. I saw you come. I was waiting for Captain Williams. At first I thought you were——"

A nervous stiffening ran through McGuire's slack, indolently loose pose; and, speaking on the impulse, without thought, he said: "You've made a mistake. Three doors down—to the right—Captain Williams. I don't think he's in, but you might try. If you——"