Read Online Letters to a Lady by Joan Smith - Free Book Online Page B

“How?” he asked blankly.
    “I don’t know. With a clasp knife or whatever men carry.”
    “I don’t carry a clasp knife. I have a patent pen, and a small magnifying glass—for looking at old books at the stalls, you know. Sometimes the print is blurred and rather hard to read. I’ll just knock at the door—in case someone is in there resting, we don’t want to go barging in.”
    As he spoke, he tapped on the door. Diana grabbed his arm and pulled him back behind the staircase. “We cannot be seen, Ronald,” she warned. They listened, but no one came to the door.
    Diana realized by this time that her helper was incompetent, and she tried to pry open the lock with a hairpin and later a nail file. When neither worked, she suggested they go outside and try to get in by a window. Ronald promptly walked to the largest window facing the street and began hauling it.
    “The back window, Ron,” she said, pointing to a few people on the street who had already stopped to stare at them. They slipped through a narrow alley and found themselves in a small, dark yard with pale windows gleaming in the moonlight.
    “I can’t reach them,” Ronald said. “There’s no way in, Di. We might as well go home!”
    “The letters that will save Harrup’s reputation and secure you a good future are in those empty rooms. Are you going to let a quarter of an inch of glass stop you?” she demanded.
    “It’s not the glass. It’s the height.”
    Diana looked all around the yard. “What’s that dark lump over there?” she asked.
    Ronald walked toward it and said, “A rain barrel, but I can’t move it. It’s full.”
    “We shall empty it,” his sister informed him through thin lips, and strode purposefully toward it.
    “Damme, you’ve got water all over my shoes,” Ronald complained as the sluggish water splashed to the ground.
    “Never mind your shoes. I’ve destroyed my second-best gown and probably my good cape as well. I’m going to take it off.” She tossed her sable-trimmed cape aside and helped her brother roll the barrel to the window. “I’ll steady it while you climb up,” she said.
    Ronald, with many slips and tumbles, was finally at the proper height. “The window’s locked inside,” he said. There was a noticeable accent of relief in his voice.
    “I’ll find a rock,” Diana replied promptly, and scrabbled around at the edge of the garden till she had one so heavy she could hardly lift it. Her gloves, she knew, were a shambles, and her coiffure had long since lost its style. “Break it softly,” she advised.
    Ronald tapped gently at the pane. “Harder than that,” she said, becoming impatient with him.
    Ronald swung his arm back and heaved. The ear-splitting noise was by no means the worst of it. Slivers of glass flew in all directions. Ronald howled and fell to the ground, clutching his eyes.
    “Oh, my God!” Diana rushed forward. “Are you all right? Ronald, you didn’t cut your eyes?”
    His hands came down slowly. He blinked and sat up. “I can see,” he breathed. Then he glanced at his fingers, where a dab of blood was visible in the moonlight. “I’m wounded,” he moaned, and lay down on the cold, damp ground. “Steeped in my own blood.”
    “Where are you hurt?” A close examination showed a cut a quarter of an inch long on one finger. “Why didn’t you wear your gloves?” she asked.
    “I didn’t want to destroy them.”
    Diana’s attention was divided between her brother and the house. A head came to the window on the lower right-side apartment. She held Ronald still, hoping the shadows would conceal them. In a moment, the head receded and all was quiet. “I didn’t mean break it that hard,” she said, fear turning to anger now that the danger had passed.
    “Well, if that ain’t—just how hard should I have broken it? Tell me that.”
    “You should have protected your face, at least. Never mind, we must get inside while we have the chance. That would be the