a
had seen his face: the bricklayer's son who had come forward with his
marvellous array of lies, and who had been so implicitly believed,
that he himself had to pay for his lies with a most horrible death.

For that death now--and because of the impenetrable mystery which the
impostor had taken with him to his humble grave--Luke stood in danger
of being punished with death that was even more horrible than that
caused by a stab in the neck under cover of darkness and of fog.

The one chance that there had been of finding a clue to the mystery
had been dissipated by the silence of the sick man up stairs. The hand
of death was upon him too. He also would take the secret of the
bricklayer's son, silently with him to the grave.

Louisa's eyes, vacant and tearless, wandered aimlessly round the room.
Doctor Newington was sitting at the desk, writing either a letter or a
prescription which apparently required a considerable amount of
thought. He seemed deeply absorbed in what he wrote and from time to
time referred to a small note-book which he took out of his pocket.

The scratching of his stylo against the paper was the only sound that
struck Louisa's ear, the rest of the house seemed lonely and still.
Only from far away came the shrill screeching of the cab-whistle.

Louisa rose and went to the door, peeping out into the hall. It was
deserted and the dining-room door was shut. She slipped out into the
hall. Doctor Newington apparently did not trouble himself about her.
Very softly she closed the library door behind her.

Then she ran swiftly up stairs.

CHAPTER XXXIX

A MERE WOMAN FIGHTING FOR THE THING SHE LOVED

Louisa reached the landing slightly out of breath. She knew her way
about the old house very well. Two doors now were opposite to her. One
of these had been left ajar--intentionally no doubt. It was the one
that gave on a smaller morning room, where in the olden days Lord
Radclyffe used to have his breakfast and write his private letters:
the library being given over to Mr. Warren and to official
correspondence.

From this side of the house and right through the silence that hung
over it, Louisa could hear very faintly rising from the servants'
quarters below, the sound of women's voices chattering and giggling.
The nurses then had not returned to their post. With the indifference
born of long usage they were enjoying every minute of the brief
respite accorded them, content to wait for the doct