kitchen, with Lord
Rantremly's breakfast on a silver tray, as was his custom. His
lordship always partook of breakfast in his own room. It is not known
how the accident happened, as the old servant was going up the stairs
instead of coming down, but the steps are very smooth and slippery,
and without a carpet; at any rate, he seems to have fallen from the
top to the bottom, and lay there with a broken neck. Lord Rantremly,
who was very deaf, seemingly did not hear the crash, and it is
supposed that after ringing and ringing in vain, and doubtless working
himself into a violent fit of temper--alas! too frequent an
occurrence--the old nobleman got out of bed, and walked barefooted
down the stair, coming at last upon the body of his ancient servant.
There the man who arrived every morning to light the fires found them,
the servant dead, and Lord Rantremly helpless from an attack of
paralysis. The physicians say that only his eyes seemed alive, and
they were filled with a great fear, and indeed that is not to be
wondered at, after his wicked, wicked life. His right hand was but
partially disabled, and with that he tried to scribble something which
proved indecipherable. And so he died, and those who attended him at
his last moments say that if ever a soul had a taste of future
punishment before it left this earth, it was the soul of Lord
Rantremly as it shone through those terror-stricken eyes.'

Here the woman stopped, with a catch in her breath, as if the fear of
that grim death-bed had communicated itself to her. I interjected
calmness into an emotional situation by remarking in a commonplace
tone,--'And it is the present Lord Rantremly who proposes to destroy
the Castle, I suppose?'

'Yes.'

'Is he the son of the late lord?'

'No; he is a distant relative. The branch of the family to which he
belongs has been engaged in commerce, and, I believe, its members are
very wealthy.'

'Well, madam, no doubt this is all extremely interesting, and rather
gruesome. In what way are you concerned in these occurrences?'

'Ten years ago I replied to an advertisement, there being required one
who knew shorthand, who possessed a typewriting machine and a
knowledge of French, to act as secretary to a nobleman. I was at that
time twenty-three years old, and for two years had been trying to earn
my living in London through the typing of manuscript. But I was making
a hard struggle of it, so I applied for this position and got it.