ed doorway,
Maud had jumped out.

"Here we are at last," she said, with a big sigh of relief, "and here you
are, Martin," as a portly looking butler came forward. "That's all right.
Thanks ever so for the lift, Miss Carson. You'll excuse me now, won't
you, though. I expect Geoffrey is tearing his hair in the billiard-room."
And with that Maud vanished at top speed, and Margaret was left to
Martin's guidance. Though Maud's sudden desertion came as an unwelcome
surprise to her, Margaret was too tired by this time even to feel shy,
and she followed Martin through the hall without any inward tremors of
nervousness.

"Miss Carson, Madam," he said, throwing open a door at the far end of the
big, square hall they had traversed, and ushering her into a drawing-room
whose open French windows gave on to the lawn. The only light in the
room, and that was not very much, came from outside, and in the
semi-darkness Margaret could just make out a figure seated in a low
easy chair partly in and partly out of the window.

A gentle snore was the only reply to the butler's announcement, and
Margaret was conscious of a quick fear lest he might retire and leave her
with her sleeping hostess.

But Martin was evidently acquainted with his mistress's habits, and he
advanced slowly up the long room repeating "Miss Carson, Madam," and
coughing gently behind his hand at intervals until he had reached her
side.

Then she awoke.

And once awake she gave Margaret a very cordial greeting.

"My dear," she said, extending her hand but not offering to rise from her
chair, "I am very pleased to see you. Turn up the lights, Martin; I was
asleep when you came. But I was not snoring, was I? The boys and Maud
accuse me of that, I know. The nap every evening after dinner I do not
deny, but the snoring I do deny most emphatically. Just reassure me my
dear, by telling me that I was not snoring."

"It was a very gentle, quiet snore," said Margaret politely.

Mrs. Danvers broke into a soft, chuckling laugh which was as pleasant and
amiable as her voice, and Martin having now turned on the light Margaret
saw that her hostess's face and appearance matched her voice and laugh.
She was a stout, not to say exceedingly stout, middle-aged woman, with a
round, rosy face, on every line of which good-temper, combined with an
easy, indolent disposition, were expressed.

"Excuse my getting up, my dear," she said, "but truth to say, I do not
get up as easily as I