Things had drifted back almost to narmal in the days that followed. We had a quiet weekend for a change. Then on Monday as I was going into the parlor from upstairs I noticed a letter on the floor below the letter drop. I put it on the little table next to the front door. It had come in the morning post and was addressed to Erica from a post office box in Chicago.
Normally, I would take the letter to her room and either put it on her desk if the door was unlocked or slip it under the door if her room was locked. That would also give me an excuse, if I needed it, to try her door to see if she really was being careful about locking it. But I didn't do that. I wondered who would be sending her a letter from Chicago. Then I wondered who else might wonder that. So I left the letter very conspicuously on the little table next to the door and checked on it from time to time to see who else might be interested in it.
Sure enough, Constance Claire saw it when she returned from afternoon classes. I watched her pick it up, look it over very carefully, weigh it in her hand, and put it back down exactly where she had found it. But where she found it was not where I had left it. Not quite. Someone else had looked at the letter before 3:30 that afternoon, before Constance Claire had returned from classes, but after 9:30 when the postman had dropped it through the letter slot in the front door. There were two people at least interested in Erica's mail, and only one of them was Constance Claire.
After some thought, as I was helping Margaret and cook with dinner, I thought of something else. Why hadn't Erica picked up the letter when she came back from classes? She usually arrived earlier than Constance Claire. Suppose she hadn't come home yet? But then I remembered I saw her in the hall earlier in the day. Had she not noticed the letter, I puzzled? But after reflection, I was almost sure she had. Deep things were still happening, in spite of the calm on the surface.
That evening, at tea, Erica very conspicuously opened and read her letter. It was several pages long and looked typewritten. Then she very carefully put the letter back into its envelope and took it up to her room. Some minutes later she came back down and announced that she was going for a walk and would surely be back before lock-up time. She then put on her cape and left.
Not surprisingly, Constance Claire and Louis had to go to the library once again. They left very shortly after Erica. I felt like a perfect fool not noticing anything, pouring my tea, clearing my cookie plate and generally being unobservant. The others were all upstairs by 9:00.
I wondered where the parade went that evening. I also wondered about the letter. Erica had certainly taken her time reading it, with the whole room watching her do so. I looked from face to fact and tried to see who was especially interested, but it seemed to me that they all were.