ths ago we were in hopes that he was about to settle down again
for he became engaged to Rachel Howells, our second house-maid; but he
has thrown her over since then and taken up with Janet Tregellis, the
daughter of the head game-keeper. Rachel--who is a very good girl, but
of an excitable Welsh temperament--had a sharp touch of brain-fever,
and goes about the house now--or did until yesterday--like a black-eyed
shadow of her former self. That was our first drama at Hurlstone; but a
second one came to drive it from our minds, and it was prefaced by the
disgrace and dismissal of butler Brunton.

"'This was how it came about. I have said that the man was intelligent,
and this very intelligence has caused his ruin, for it seems to have
led to an insatiable curiosity about things which did not in the least
concern him. I had no idea of the lengths to which this would carry him,
until the merest accident opened my eyes to it.

"'I have said that the house is a rambling one. One day last week--on
Thursday night, to be more exact--I found that I could not sleep,
having foolishly taken a cup of strong cafe noir after my dinner. After
struggling against it until two in the morning, I felt that it was quite
hopeless, so I rose and lit the candle with the intention of continuing
a novel which I was reading. The book, however, had been left in the
billiard-room, so I pulled on my dressing-gown and started off to get
it.

"'In order to reach the billiard-room I had to descend a flight of
stairs and then to cross the head of a passage which led to the library
and the gun-room. You can imagine my surprise when, as I looked down
this corridor, I saw a glimmer of light coming from the open door of the
library. I had myself extinguished the lamp and closed the door before
coming to bed. Naturally my first thought was of burglars. The corridors
at Hurlstone have their walls largely decorated with trophies of old
weapons. From one of these I picked a battle-axe, and then, leaving my
candle behind me, I crept on tiptoe down the passage and peeped in at
the open door.

"'Brunton, the butler, was in the library. He was sitting, fully
dressed, in an easy-chair, with a slip of paper which looked like a
map upon his knee, and his forehead sunk forward upon his hand in deep
thought. I stood dumb with astonishment, watching him from the darkness.
A small taper on the edge of the table shed a feeble light which
sufficed to show me that he was