h!" from Mr. Gryce warned her that her surmise was
correct, and, bending her every energy to listen, she watched for the
expected appearance of this man in the antechamber of Mr. Adams's former
study.

He came even sooner than she was prepared to see him, and laying down
his hat on a table near the doorway, advanced with a busy air toward the
portiere he had doubtless been in the habit of lifting twenty times a
day. But he barely touched it this time. Something seen, or unseen,
prevented him from entering. Was it the memory of what he had last
beheld there? Or had he noticed the rugs hanging in an unaccustomed way
on either side of the damaged casings? Neither, apparently, for he
simply turned away with a meek look, wholly mechanical, and taking up
his hat again, left the antechamber and proceeded softly upstairs.

"I will follow him," whispered Mr. Gryce. "Don't be afraid, ma'am. This
whistle will bring a man in from the street at once."

"I am not afraid. I would be ashamed----"

But it was useless for her to finish this disclaimer. Mr. Gryce was
already in the hall. He returned speedily, and saying that the
experiment was likely to be a failure, as the old man had gone to his
own room and was preparing himself for bed, he led the way into the
study, and with purpose, or without a purpose--who knows?--idly touched
a button on the table top, thus throwing a new light on the scene. It
was Miss Butterworth's first experience of this change of light, and she
was observing the effect made by the violet glow now thrown over the
picture and the other rich articles in the room when her admiration was
cut short, and Mr. Gryce's half-uttered remark also, by the faint sound
of the valet's descending steps.

Indeed, they had barely time to regain their old position behind the
parlor portieres when Bartow was seen hurrying in from the hall with his
former busy air, which this time remained unchecked.

Crossing to his master's study, he paused for an infinitesimal length of
time on the threshold, as if conscious of something being amiss, then
went into the room beyond, and, without a glance in the direction of the
rug, which had been carefully relaid on the spot where his master had
fallen, began to make such arrangements for the night as he was in the
habit of making at this hour. He brought a bottle of wine from the
cupboard and set it on the table, and then a glass, which he first wiped
scrupulously clean. Then he took out