ent dead white and he
got no further.

People were approaching from behind them, too; voices grew distinct in
conversation; somebody turned up another lamp.

"Do sing that little song again--the one you sang for Mr. Skeel," said
Lee Barres, coming up to the piano on her brother's arm. "Mrs.
Gerhardt has been waiting very patiently for an opportunity to ask
you."

XXIV

A SILENT HOUSE

The guests from Hohenlinden had departed from Foreland Farms; the
family had retired. Outside, under a sparkling galaxy of summer stars,
tall trees stood unstirring; indoors nothing stirred except the family
cat, darkly prowling on velvet-shod feet in eternal search of those
viewless things which are manifest only to the feline race--sorcerers
all, whether quadruped or human.

In various bedrooms upstairs lights went out, one after another, until
only two windows remained illuminated, one in the west wing, one in
the north.

For Dulcie, in her negligee and night robe, still sat by the open
window, chin resting on palm, her haunted gaze remotely lost somewhere
beyond the July stars.

And, in his room, Garry had arrived only as far as removing coat and
waistcoat in the process of disrobing for the night. For his mind was
still deeply preoccupied with Dulcie Soane and with the strange
expression of her face at the piano--and with the profoundly altered
visage of Murtagh Skeel.

And he was asking himself what could have happened between those two
in such a few minutes there at the piano in the music-room. For it was
evident to him that Skeel was labouring under poorly controlled
emotion, was dazed by it, and was recovering self-possession only by a
mighty effort.

And when Skeel had finally taken his leave and had gone away with the
Gerhardts, he suddenly stopped on the porch, returned to the
music-room, and, bending down, had kissed Dulcie's hand with a grace
and reverence which made the salute more of a serious ceremony than
the impulsive homage of a romantic poet's whim.

Considered by itself, the abrupt return and quaintly perfect salute
might have been taken as a spontaneous effervescence of that
delightful Celtic gallantry so easily stirred to ebullition by youth
and beauty. And for that it was accepted by the others after Murtagh
Skeel was gone; and everybody ventured to chaff Dulcie a little about
her conquest--merely the gentle humour of gentlefolk--a harmless word
or two, a smile in sympathy.

Garry alone s