ond," he added, turning to the man who had fallen a little into
the background, very stiff and uncomfortable in his Sunday clothes.

"I thankee, Squire," the latter replied a little awkwardly, with a
motion of his hand towards his forehead. "I can't say the same for you,
sir. Them furrin parts has filled you out and hardened you. I'll take
the liberty of saying that I should never have recognised you, sir, and
that's sure."

"This is Parkins," Mr. Mangan went on, pushing his way once more into
the foreground, "the butler whom I engaged in London. And--"

There was a queer and instantaneous silence. The little group of
maidservants, who had been exchanging whispered confidences as to their
new master's appearance, were suddenly dumb. All eyes were turned in
one direction. A woman whose advent had been unperceived, but who had
evidently issued from one of the recesses of the hall, stood suddenly
before them all. She was as thin as a lath, dressed in severe black,
with grey hair brushed back from her head and not even a white collar
at her neck. Her face was long and narrow, her features curiously large,
her eyes filled with anger. She spoke very slowly, but with some trace
in her intonation of a north-country dialect.

"There's no place in this house for you, Everard Dominey," she said,
standing in front of him as though to bar his progress. "I wrote last
night to stop you, but you've shown indecent haste in coming. There's
no place here for a murderer. Get back where you came from, back to your
hiding."

"My good woman!" Mangan gasped. "This is really too much!"

"I've not come to bandy words with lawyers," the woman retorted. "I've
come to speak to him. Can you face me, Everard Dominey, you who murdered
my son and made a madwoman of your wife?"

The lawyer would have answered her, but Dominey waved him aside.

"Mrs. Unthank," he said sternly, "return to your duties at once, and
understand that this house is mine, to enter or leave when I choose."

She was speechless for a moment, amazed at the firmness of his words.

"The house may be yours, Sir Everard Dominey," she said threateningly,
"but there's one part of it at least in which you won't dare to show
yourself."

"You forget yourself, woman," he replied coldly. "Be so good as to
return to your mistress at once, announce my coming, and say that I wait
only for her permission before presenting myself in her apartments."

The woman laughed, unpleasantly, ho