that Agnes possessed might have been
conveniently hung at full length. In the inner corner of the room,
near the head of the bedstead, there was a recess which had been turned
into a little dressing-room, and which opened by a second door on the
inferior staircase of the hotel, commonly used by the servants.
Noticing these aspects of the room at a glance, Agnes made the
necessary change in her dress, as quickly as possible. On her way back
to the drawing-room she was addressed by a chambermaid in the corridor
who asked for her key. 'I will put your room tidy for the night,
Miss,' the woman said, 'and I will then bring the key back to you in
the drawing-room.'

While the chambermaid was at her work, a solitary lady, loitering about
the corridor of the second storey, was watching her over the
bannisters. After a while, the maid appeared, with her pail in her
hand, leaving the room by way of the dressing-room and the back stairs.
As she passed out of sight, the lady on the second floor (no other, it
is needless to add, than the Countess herself) ran swiftly down the
stairs, entered the bed-chamber by the principal door, and hid herself
in the empty side compartment of the wardrobe. The chambermaid
returned, completed her work, locked the door of the dressing-room on
the inner side, locked the principal entrance-door on leaving the room,
and returned the key to Agnes in the drawing-room.

The travellers were just sitting down to their late dinner, when one of
the children noticed that Agnes was not wearing her watch. Had she
left it in her bed-chamber in the hurry of changing her dress? She
rose from the table at once in search of her watch; Lady Montbarry
advising her, as she went out, to see to the security of her
bed-chamber, in the event of there being thieves in the house. Agnes
found her watch, forgotten on the toilet table, as she had anticipated.
Before leaving the room again she acted on Lady Montbarry's advice, and
tried the key in the lock of the dressing-room door. It was properly
secured. She left the bed-chamber, locking the main door behind her.

Immediately on her departure, the Countess, oppressed by the confined
air in the wardrobe, ventured on stepping out of her hiding place into
the empty room.

Entering the dressing-room, she listened at the door, until the silence
outside informed her that the corridor was empty. Upon this, she
unlocked the door, and, passing out, closed it again softly; leaving i