peak to me about what you call my cock-and-bull stories.
If the master is mad, all I can say to anybody is I'm very sorry to hear
it. I came to my mistress, sir, if you please; and I prefer to take my
orders from one who has a right to give them. Did I understand you to
say, ma'am, that you wouldn't want me any more this evening?'

Sheila had swept solemnly to the door. 'Mr Danton meant all that he said
quite kindly, Ada. I can perfectly understand your feelings--perfectly.
And I'm very much obliged to you for all your kindness to me in very
trying circumstances. We are all agreed--we are forced to the terrible
conclusion which--which Mr Danton has just--expressed. And I know I
can rely on your discretion. Don't stay on a moment if you really are
afraid. But when you say "some one" Ada, do you mean--some one like you
or me; or do you mean--the other?'

'I've been sitting in the kitchen, ma'am, unable to move. I'm watched
everywhere. The other evening I went into the drawing-room--I was alone
in the house--and... I can't describe it. It wasn't dark; and yet it was
all still and black, like the ruins after a fire. I don't mean I saw it,
only that it was like a scene. And then the watching--I am quite aware
to some it may sound all fancy. But I'm not superstitious, never was.
I only mean--that I can't sit alone here. I daren't. Else, I'm quite
myself. So if so be you don't want me any more; if I can't be of any
further use to you or to--to Mr. Lawford, I'd prefer to go home.'

'Very well, Ada; thank you. You can go out this way.'

The door was unchained and unbolted, and 'Good-night' said. And Sheila
swept back in sombre pomp to her absorbed friends.

'She's quite a good creature at heart,' she explained frankly, as if to
disclaim any finesse, 'and almost quixotically loyal. But what really
did she mean, do you think? She is so obstinate. That maddening "some
one"! How they do repeat themselves. It can't be my husband; not Dr
Ferguson, I mean. You don't suppose--oh surely, not "some one" else!'
Again the dark silence of the house seemed to drift in on the little
company.

Mr Craik cleared his throat. 'I failed to catch quite all that the maid
said,' he murmured apologetically; 'but I certainly did gather it was to
some kind of--of emanation she was referring. And the "ruin," you know.
I'm not a mystic; and yet do you know, that somehow seemed to me almost
offensively suggestive of--of demonic influence. You don't supp