given her by the friendly porter, Barbara reached her
destination. Under the porch she pulled the handle of the bell,
all dank and glistening with moisture, and heard it tinkle loudly
somewhere within the house.

How lonely the place was, thought Barbara with a little shiver!
The fog was growing thicker every minute and now seemed suspended
like a vast curtain between her and the drive. Somewhere in the
distance she heard the hollow gurgling of a stream. Otherwise,
there was no sound.

She rang the bell again rather nervously and waited. In her bag
she had a little torch-light (for she was a practical young
person), and taking it out, she flashed it on the door. It
presented a stolid, impenetrable oaken front. She stepped out
into the fog and scanned the windows which were already almost
lost to view. They were dark and forbidding.

Again she tugged at the bell. Again, with a groaning of wires,
responded the hollow tinkle. Then silence fell once more. Barbara
began to get alarmed. What had happened to Major Okewood? She had
understood that there was no question of his leaving the house
until the Chief gave him the word. Where, then, was he? He was
not the man to disobey an order. Rather than believe that, she
would think that something untoward had befallen him. Had there
been foul play here, too?

A sudden panic seized her. She grasped the bell and tugged and
tugged until she could tug no more. The bell jangled and pealed
and clattered reverberatingly from the gloomy house, and then,
with a jarring of wires, relapsed into silence. Barbara beat on
the door with her hands, for there was no knocker; but all
remained still within. Only the dank mist swirled in ever denser
about her as she stood beneath the dripping porch.

"This won't do!" said Barbara, pulling herself together. "I
mustn't get frightened, whatever I do! Major Okewood is very well
capable of defending himself. What's happened is that the man has
been called away and the servants have taken advantage of his
absence to go out! Barbara, my dear, you'll just have to foot it
back to the station without your tea!"

She turned her back on the door and torch in hand, plunged
resolutely into the fog-bank. The mist was bewilderingly thick.
Still, by going slow and always keeping the gravel under her
feet, she reached the front gate and turned out on the road.

Here the mist was worse than ever. She had not taken four paces
before she had lost all sense of