t from
her maid whether she is awake?"

It was superbly done. There was not a quaver in Lady Splay's voice, not
a sign of agitation in her manner.

"I'll inquire, my lady," replied Harper, and he left the room upon his
errand.

"One thing is certain," Mr. Albany Todd broke in. "I was watching Harper
over your shoulder, Lady Splay. He hasn't seen the paragraph. There's
nothing known of it in the servants' hall."

Sir Chichester nodded, and Millie Splay observed:

"Harper's so imperturbable that he always inspires me with confidence. I
feel that nothing out of the way could really happen whilst he was in
the house." And her attitude of tension did greatly relax as she
thought, illogically enough, of that stolid butler. A suggestion made by
Martin Hillyard set them to work whilst they waited.

"Let us see if the report is in any of the other papers," and all
immediately were busy with that examination--except one again. And that
one again, Harry Luttrell. He sat in his place motionless, his eyes
transfixed upon some vision of horror--as if he _knew_, Martin said to
himself, yes, as if all these questions were futile, as if he _knew_.

But no other newspaper had printed the paragraph. They had hardly
assured themselves of this fact, when Harper once more stood in the
doorway.

"Mrs. Croyle gave orders last night to her maid that she was not to be
disturbed until she rang, my lady," he said.

"And she has not rung?" Millie asked.

"No, my lady."

Miranda suddenly laughed in an odd fashion and swayed in her chair.

"Miranda!" Millie Splay brought her back to her self-control with a
sharp cry of rebuke. Then she resumed to Harper.

"I will take the responsibility of waking Mrs. Croyle. Will you please,
ask her maid to rouse Mrs. Croyle, and inquire whether she will join us
this morning. We shall start at twelve."

"Very well, my lady."

There was no longer any pretence of ease amongst the people seated round
the table. A queer panic passed from one to the other. They were awed by
the imminence of dreadful uncomprehended things. They waited in silence,
like people under a spell, and from somewhere in the house above their
heads, there sounded a loud rapping upon a door. They held their breath,
straining to hear the grate of a key in a lock, and the opening of that
door. They heard only the knocking repeated and repeated again. It was
followed by a sound of hurrying feet.

Jenny Prask ran down the great main