g as well as she
could from these, he was piling up the bricks which closed the oven's
mouth as they had been before he disturbed them. The query that had not
left her brain all the interval of her inspection--how should she get
back into her bedroom again?--now received a solution. Whilst he was
replacing the cupboard, she would glide across the brewhouse, take the
key from the top of the copper, run upstairs, unlock the door, and bring
back the key again: if he returned to bed, which was unlikely, he would
think the lock had failed to catch in the staple. This thought and
intention, occupying such length of words, flashed upon her in an
instant, and hardly disturbed her strong curiosity to stay and learn the
meaning of his actions in the workshop.

Slipping sideways through the first door and closing it behind her, she
advanced into the darkness towards the second, making every individual
footfall with the greatest care, lest the fragments of rubbish on the
floor should crackle beneath her tread. She soon stood close by the
copper, and not more than a foot from the door of the room occupied
by Manston himself, from which position she could distinctly hear him
breathe between each exertion, although it was far too dark to discern
anything of him.

To secure the key of her chamber was her first anxiety, and accordingly
she cautiously reached out with her hand to where it lay. Instead of
touching it, her fingers came in contact with the boot of a human being.

She drooped faint in a cold sweat. It was the foot either of a man or
woman, standing on the brewing-copper where the key had lain. A warm
foot, covered with a polished boot.

The startling discovery so terrified her that she could hardly repress a
sound. She withdrew her hand with a motion like the flight of an arrow.
Her touch was so light that the leather seemed to have been thick enough
to keep the owner of the foot in entire ignorance of it, and the noise
of Manston's scraping might have been quite sufficient to drown the
slight rustle of her dress.

The person was obviously not the steward: he was still busy. It was
somebody who, since the light had been extinguished, had taken advantage
of the gloom, to come from some dark recess in the brewhouse and stand
upon the brickwork of the copper. The fear which had at first paralyzed
her lessened with the birth of a sense that fear now was utter failure:
she was in a desperate position and must abide by the co