The fourth day to my infinite chagrin, I was sick and could not go
with him. All I could do was to wrap myself in blankets and sit in my
window from which I had the satisfaction of viewing him start as I
supposed upon his usual course. The rest of the day was employed in a
long, dull waiting for his return, only relieved by casual glimpses
of Mrs. Daniels' troubled face as she appeared at one window or
another of the old-fashioned mansion before me. She seemed, too, to
be unusually restless, opening the windows and looking out with
forlorn cranings of her neck as if she too were watching for her
master. Indeed I have no doubt from what I afterwards learned, that
she was in a state of constant suspense during these days. Her
frequent appearance at the station house, where she in vain sought for
some news of the girl in whose fate she was so absorbed, confirmed
this. Only the day before I gave myself up to my unreserved espionage
of Mr. Blake, she had had an interview with Mr. Gryce in which she
had let fall her apprehensions that the girl was dead, and asked
whether if that were the case, the police would be likely to come into
a knowledge of the fact. Upon being assured that if she had not been
privately made way with, there was every chance in their favor, she
had grown a little calmer, but before going away had so far forgotten
herself as to intimate that if some result was not reached before
another fortnight had elapsed, she should take the matter into her
own hands and--She did not say what she would do, but her looks were
of a very menacing character. It was no wonder, then, that her
countenance bore marks of the keenest anxiety as she trod the halls
of that dim old mansion, with its dusky corners rich with bronzes and
the glimmering shine of ancient brocades, breathing suggestions of
loss and wrong; or bent her wrinkled forehead to gaze from the
windows for the coming of one whose footsteps were ever delayed. She