floral oil painting

polishing the panes, could not hear me, 'and at first I thought it was
Pilot: but Pilot cannot laugh; and I am certain I heard a laugh, and a
strange one.'
She took a new needleful of thread, waxed it carefully, threaded
her needle with a steady hand, and then observed, with perfect
composure-
'It is hardly likely master would laugh, I should think, Miss, when
he was in such danger: you must have been dreaming.'
'I was not dreaming,' I said, with some warmth, for her brazen
coolness provoked me. Again she looked at me; and with the same

scrutinising and conscious eye.
'Have you told master that you heard a laugh?' she inquired.
'I have not had the opportunity of speaking to him this morning.'
'You did not think of opening your door and looking out into the
gallery?' she further asked.
She appeared to be cross-questioning me, attempting to draw from me
information unawares. The idea struck me that if she discovered I knew
or suspected her guilt, she would be playing off some of her malignant
pranks on me; I thought it advisable to be on my guard.