The room was empty, and the bed had not even been slept in.
Where then was Bill?
Suddenly she caught her breath. This was not Bill’s room. The dainty negligee thrown over a chair, the feminine knickknacks on the dressing-table, the black velvet evening dress thrown carelessly over a chair … Of course, in her haste she had mistaken the doors. This was the Countess Radzky’s room.
But where, oh where, was the countess?
And just as Bundle was asking herself this question, the silence of the night was suddenly broken, and in no uncertain manner.
The clamour came from below. In an instant Bundle had sped out of the Countess’s room and downstairs. The sounds came from the library—a violent crashing of chairs being overturned.
Bundle rattled vainly at the library door. It was locked. But she could clearly hear the struggle that was going on within—the panting and scuffing, curses in manly tones, the occasional crash as some light piece of furniture came into the line of battle.
And then, sinister and distinct, breaking the peace of the night for good and all, two shots in rapid succession.