ed and whimpering like a dog
against the locked door. Save for his master's express command, no power
on earth would have driven him away, not even Capper of the curt speech
and magnetic will. But the master had spoken very definitely and
distinctly, and it was Tawny Hudson's to obey. Therefore he huddled on
the mat, rocking to and fro, shivering like some monstrous animal in
pain, while within the room Capper wrought his miracles.

Downstairs Mrs. Errol sat holding Anne's hand very tightly, and talking
incessantly lest her ears should be constrained to listen. And Anne, pale
and still, answered her as a woman talking in her sleep.

Bertie and his young bride were still absent on their honeymoon; this
also by Lucas's express desire.

"It won't help me any to have you here, boy," he had said at parting. "A
certain fuss is inevitable, but I want you out of it. I am looking to
Anne Carfax to help the dear mother."

He had known even then that he would not look in vain, and he had not
been disappointed. So, sorely against his will, Bertie had submitted,
with the proviso that if things went wrong he should be sent for
immediately.

And thus Anne Carfax, who had lived in almost unbroken seclusion since
her husband's death, now sat with Mrs. Errol's hand clasped in hers, and
listened, as one listens in a nightmare, to the wailing of the wind about
the garden and house, and the beat, beat, beat of her heart when the wind
was still.

"Could you say a prayer, dear?" Mrs. Errol asked her once.

And she knelt and prayed, scarcely knowing what she said, but with a
passion of earnestness that left her weak, quivering in every limb.

The wind was rising. It roared in the trees and howled against the panes.
Sometimes a wild gust of rain lashed the windows. It made her think of an
unquiet spirit clamouring for admittance.

"Anne dear, play to me, play to me!" besought Mrs. Errol. "If I listen I
shall go mad! No one will hear you. We are right away from his part of
the house."

And though every nerve shrank at the bare suggestion, Anne rose without
a single protest and went to the piano. She sat down before it, and
blindly, her eyes wide, fixed, unseeing, she began to play.

What she played she knew not. Her fingers found notes, chords, melodies
mechanically.

Once she paused, but, "Ah, go on, dear child! Go on!" urged Mrs. Errol.
And she went on, feeling vaguely through the maze of suspense that
surrounded them, longing i