main doorway.
The door was open into the portico, through the stone archway of which
I saw the garden glitter in the blue light of a full moon. As the master
of the house uttered the words I have just repeated my companion came
slowly up into the porch from without, bareheaded, bright in the outer
moonlight, dark in the shadow of the archway, and bright again in the
lamplight at the entrance of the hall. As he crossed the threshold the
butler made an appearance at the head of the staircase on our left,
faltering visibly a moment at sight of Mr. Searle; after which, noting
my friend, he gravely descended. He bore in his hand a small silver
tray. On the tray, gleaming in the light of the suspended lamp, lay a
folded note. Clement Searle came forward, staring a little and startled,
I think, by some quick nervous prevision of a catastrophe. The butler
applied the match to the train. He advanced to my fellow visitor, all
solemnly, with the offer of his missive. Mr. Searle made a movement as
if to spring forward, but controlled himself. "Tottenham!" he called in
a strident voice.

"Yes, sir!" said Tottenham, halting.

"Stand where you are. For whom is that note?"

"For Mr. Clement Searle," said the butler, staring straight before him
and dissociating himself from everything.

"Who gave it to you?"

"Mrs. Horridge, sir." This personage, I afterwards learned, was our
friend the housekeeper.

"Who gave it Mrs. Horridge?"

There was on Tottenham's part just an infinitesimal pause before
replying.

"My dear sir," broke in Searle, his equilibrium, his ancient ease,
completely restored by the crisis, "isn't that rather my business?"

"What happens in my house is my business, and detestable things seem to
be happening." Our host, it was clear, now so furiously detested them
that I was afraid he would snatch the bone of contention without more
ceremony. "Bring me that thing!" he cried; on which Tottenham stiffly
moved to obey.

"Really this is too much!" broke out my companion, affronted and
helpless.

So indeed it struck me, and before Mr. Searle had time to take the note
I possessed myself of it. "If you've no consideration for your sister
let a stranger at least act for her." And I tore the disputed object
into a dozen pieces.

"In the name of decency, what does this horrid business mean?" my
companion quavered.

Mr. Searle was about to open fire on him, but at that moment our hostess
appeared on the staircase,