There are her work-basket and the spools of black silk." He turned to the box again and read the name of "Rosenthal" stencilled on the bottom.

"So that is what she is doing--they did not tell me what she worked at." He spread out the mantilla again and looked it over carefully.

Then a smile of cunning crossed his face.

"Just what I want," he said, folding it up and tucking it inside his capacious cape.
He now made a tour of the room, his tread like that of a cat, lifted the plates on the dresser as if in search of something behind them, rummaged through the work-basket, opening and turning the leaves of a book lying on the table.

So occupied was he that he did not hear Martha's noiseless step nor know that she had entered the room.
For a moment she stood watching his every movement.