Once inside, however, she drew a long breath. The doors were still
locked, and the keys gone. So Herman had not returned. But as she stood
there, hurried stealthy footsteps came along the street and turned in at
the gate. In a panic she flew up the stairs and into her room, where the
door still hung crazily on its hinges. She stood there, listening, her
heart pounding in her ears, and below she distinctly heard a key in the
kitchen door. She did the only thing she could think of. She lifted the
door into place, and stood against it, bracing it with her body.
Whoever it was was in the kitchen now, moving however more swiftly than
Herman. She heard matches striking. Then: "Hsst!"
She knew that it was Rudolph, and she braced herself mentally. Rudolph
was keener than Herman. If he found her door in that condition, and she
herself dressed! Working silently and still holding the door in place,
she flung off her coat. She even unpinned her hair and unfastened her
dress.
When his signal remained unanswered a second time he called her by name,
and she heard him coming up.
"Anna!" he repeated.
"Yes?"
He was startled to hear her voice so close to the door. In the dark she
heard him fumbling for the knob. He happened on the padlock instead, and
he laughed a little. By that she knew that he was not quite sober.
"Locked you in, has he?"
"What do you want?"
"Has Herman come home yet?"
"He doesn't get home until seven."
"Hasn't he been back at all, to-night?"
She hesitated.
"How do I know? I've been asleep!"
"Some sleep!" he said, and suddenly lurched against the door. In
spite of her it yielded, and although she braced herself with all
her strength, his weight against it caused it to give way. It was a
suspicious, crafty Rudolph who picked himself up and made a clutch at
her in the dark.
"You little liar," he said thickly. And struck a match. She cowered away
from him.
"I was going to run away, Rudolph," she cried. "He hasn't any business
locking me in, I won't stand for it."
"You've been out."
"No!"
"Out--after him!"
"Honest to God, Rudolph, no. I hate him. I don't ever want to see him
again."
He put a hand out into the darkness, and finding her, tried to draw her
to him. She struggled, and he released her. All at once she knew that he
was weak with fright. The bravado had died out of him. The face she had
touched was covered with a clammy sweat.