She sat up for some little time after her father had gone to bed, and
as usual, she paused outside his door and listened. All was quiet then;
but as she was brushing her hair she thought she heard his door open.
She laid down the brush and stood battling with the sudden fear which
possessed her; then she stole out on to the corridor. The old man was
standing at the head of the stairs as if about to descend; and though
she could not see his face she knew that he was asleep.
She glided to him noiselessly and put her hand upon his arm softly. He
turned his sightless eyes upon her, evidently without seeing her, and,
fighting against the desire to cry out, she led him gently back to his
room.
He woke as they crossed the threshold, woke and looked at her in a
stupefied fashion.
"Are you ill, father? Is there anything you want?" she asked, as calmly
as she could.
"No," he replied. "I am quite well; I do not want anything. I was going
to bed--why have you called me?"
She remained with him for a few minutes, then left the room, turning
the key in the door. When she had gone he stood listening with his head
on one side; then he opened his hand and looked with a cunning smile at
the five-pound note which had been tightly grasped in it.
"She didn't see it; no, she didn't see it!" he muttered; and he went
stealthily to the bed and thrust it under the pillow.