loss. But I have nothing to do with it now. You are the servants of Mr.
de Barral--you know."

The butler was astounded by the manner of this advice, and as his eyes
wandered to the drawing-room door the governess extended her arm as if to
bar the way. "Nobody goes in there." And that was said still in another
tone, such a tone that all trace of the trained respectfulness vanished
from the butler's bearing. He stared at her with a frank wondering gaze.
"Not till I am gone," she added, and there was such an expression on her
face that the man was daunted by the mystery of it. He shrugged his
shoulders slightly and without another word went down the stairs on his
way to the basement, brushing in the hall past Mr. Charles who hat on
head and both hands rammed deep into his overcoat pockets paced up and
down as though on sentry duty there.

The ladies' maid was the only servant upstairs, hovering in the passage
on the first floor, curious and as if fascinated by the woman who stood
there guarding the door. Being beckoned closer imperiously and asked by
the governess to bring out of the now empty rooms the hat and veil, the
only objects besides the furniture still to be found there, she did so in
silence but inwardly fluttered. And while waiting uneasily, with the
veil, before that woman who, without moving a step away from the drawing-
room door was pinning with careless haste her hat on her head, she heard
within a sudden burst of laughter from Miss de Barral enjoying the fun of
the water-colour lesson given her for the last time by the cheery old
man.

Mr. and Mrs. Fyne ambushed at their window--a most incredible occupation
for people of their kind--saw with renewed anxiety a cab come to the
door, and watched some luggage being carried out and put on its roof. The