s you've seen for
yourself--"

She stopped short and put her hand over her mouth.

"Go and get the things," said Lawrence, "then wait for me in the
yard."

Catherine retired in disorder and Lawrence followed her out. He
found Barry waiting to speak to him. "Where's my man?" Lawrence
asked. "Send him to me, will you?"

"Beg pardon, sir, but are you going to speak to Major Clowes?"

"Why?"

Barry looked down. "His orders was that you weren't to be
admitted, sir."

"How is Major Clowes?"

"Very queer. I took it on myself to send for the doctor, but he
was out: but they sent word that he'd step round as soon as he
came in. I'd have liked to catch Mr. Val, but he slipped off
while I was waiting on the Major."

"But Major Clowes isn't ill?"

"Oh no, sir. But I don't care for so much responsibility."

"Shall I have a look at him?"

"Oh no," a much more decided negative. "I wouldn't go near the
Major, sir, not if I was you."

"Why, what's the matter with him?" Lawrence asked curiously. But
Barry refused to commit himself beyond repeating that the Major
was very queer, and after promising to send Val to the rescue
Lawrence dismissed him, as Gaston came hurrying up. Something
suspiciously like a grin twinkled over the little Frenchman's
face when he found his master waiting for him on the sill of
Caroline's pantry, silhouetted against row on row of shining
glass and silver, and wearing at noon-day the purple and fine
linen, the white waistcoat and thin boots of last night. But his
French breeding triumphed and he remained, except for that one
furtive twinkle, the conscientious valet, nescient and urbane.
Lawrence did not give him even so much explanation as he had
given Catherine. "Is there a back staircase?" he asked, and
then, "Take me up by it. I'm going to my room."

Gaston led the way through the servants' hall. Lawrence,
following, had to fight down a nausea of humiliation that was
almost physical: he had never before done anything that so
sickened him as this sneaking progress through the kitchen
quarters in another man's house. At length Gaston, holding up a
finger to enjoin silence, brought him out on the main landing
overlooking the hall.

There was no carpet on the polished floor but Lawrence when he
chose could tread like a cat. He stepped to the balustrade. It
was as dark as a dark evening, for the great doors were still
fast shut, and what scanty light filtered through the paint