Stella
opened her own door a crack and listened; the hall, lighted only by a
single oil-lamp at the head of the stairs, was deserted and silent.
She stole cautiously forward, but the voices in Miss La Rue's room were
muffled and indistinct, not an audible word reaching her ears. The key
was in the lock, shutting out all view of the interior. Well, what was
the difference? She knew what was occurring within--the stolen
telegram was being displayed, and discussed. That would not delay them
long, and it would never do for her to be discovered in the hall.
Convinced of the uselessness of remaining, she returned to her own
room, closing and bolting the door.
This time she removed some of her clothing, and lay down on the bed,
conscious of being exceedingly tired, yet in no degree sleepy. She
rested there, with wide-open eyes, listening until the distant door
creaked again, and she heard the footsteps of the men in the hall.
They had not remained in the chorus girl's room long, nor was anything
said outside to arouse her suspicions.
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