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NOTHING could keep Mrs. Keith quiet. She was unable to rest. Twenty minutes after Colin had left, she dismissed her maid, declaring herself well, and went to the scene of the conflagration, only to find the door locked. Extreme anxiety to know whether the hidden picture had escaped observation oppressed her; but she dared not make direct inquiries. She knew that the dresses on the floor had been consumed; but she also knew that, when the things caught fire, a thick woollen shawl still covered the picture, and her hope was that it might have been left undisturbed. She bitterly regretted now the fancy that had seized her to take one more look at the portrait.
If indeed it had been found, her role would be to profess ignorance of its presence in the box. Somebody else, not she, should bear the blame. She would not risk asking for the key of the door, but made her way to the library, where others were gathered, discussing the event of the day. Colin remonstrated with her for being about, putting her gently into an armchair, and Giles tried to turn the subject, seconded by Phyllys. Mr. Dugdale surveyed her with critical glances.