e of Lady
Arabella, the only colour to be seen on her being blood-marks on her face
and hands and throat. Otherwise, she was calm and unruffled, as when
earlier she stood aside for him to pass in through the narrow iron door.

CHAPTER XIX--AN ENEMY IN THE DARK

Adam Salton went for a walk before returning to Lesser Hill; he felt that
it might be well, not only to steady his nerves, shaken by the horrible
scene, but to get his thoughts into some sort of order, so as to be ready
to enter on the matter with Sir Nathaniel. He was a little embarrassed
as to telling his uncle, for affairs had so vastly progressed beyond his
original view that he felt a little doubtful as to what would be the old
gentleman's attitude when he should hear of the strange events for the
first time. Mr. Salton would certainly not be satisfied at being treated
as an outsider with regard to such things, most of which had points of
contact with the inmates of his own house. It was with an immense sense
of relief that Adam heard that his uncle had telegraphed to the
housekeeper that he was detained by business at Walsall, where he would
remain for the night; and that he would be back in the morning in time
for lunch.

When Adam got home after his walk, he found Sir Nathaniel just going to
bed. He did not say anything to him then of what had happened, but
contented himself with arranging that they would walk together in the
early morning, as he had much to say that would require serious
attention.

Strangely enough he slept well, and awoke at dawn with his mind clear and
his nerves in their usual unshaken condition. The maid brought up, with
his early morning cup of tea, a note which had been found in the letter-
box. It was from Lady Arabella, and was evidently intended to put him on
his guard as to what he should say about the previous evening.

He read it over carefully several times, before he was satisfied that he
had taken in its full import.

"DEAR MR. SALTON,

"I cannot go to bed until I have written to you, so you must forgive
me if I disturb you, and at an unseemly time. Indeed, you must also
forgive me if, in trying to do what is right, I err in saying too much
or too little. The fact is that I am quite upset and unnerved by all
that has happened in this terrible night. I find it difficult even to
write; my hands shake so that they are not under control, and I am
trembling all over with memory