She locked her door obediently, as
she had been told, but she did not go back to bed, or try to forget. There
was a big easy chair not far from the door she had just closed, and she
subsided into it, limply, realizing that she had gone through a strenuous
experience. Huddled there, a minute later she heard her neighbour's voice
speaking through the telephone, and was consumed with curiosity as to how
he was keeping the wriggling prisoner quiet.
"He must have contrived to tie the wretch somehow," she told herself. "Or
perhaps he's strong enough to hold him with one hand. He's the sort of man
who would always think of an expedient and know how to carry it out."
It seemed dreamlike, that such a scene as her imagination, pictured was
really passing in the next room, where all was so quiet save for the calm
voice talking at the telephone, and Angela could not help listening
anxiously, hoping to catch a few words.
After the first murmur at the telephone, through the thick mahogany door,
there fell a silence more exciting to the listener than the indistinct
sounds had been. Then suddenly there was a stirring, and the mumble of
several heavy, hushed voices. After that, dead silence again, which
remained unbroken. Evidently the police had been sent for; had come; had
listened to the story of the attempted theft as told by the thief's
captor.
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