Her eyes wandered to the dressing-table.
Instead of holding its usual array of silver-backed brushes and polished shaving tackle, winking in the sunshine, it was empty.

She stared at it blankly.

Then her glance travelled slowly round the room.

It had a strangely untenanted look.

There was no sign of masculine attire left carelessly about--not a chair or table was a hairbreadth out of its appointed place.
Her hand, resting lightly on the door-handle, gripped it with a sudden tensity.