"I don't care to be kept out of my bed, to be catechized by you,"
returned Mrs. Ellsworth, pleased that she had aroused curiosity and
determined not to gratify it. "Turn on the light in the corridor and
give me your arm. My rheumatism is very bad, owing to the chill I have
caught, and if I stumble I may be laid up for a week."

The girl proffered a slender arm, hoping that the pounding of her heart
might not be detected by Mrs. Ellsworth's hand. She wished that she could
have slipped it under her right arm instead of the left, but owing to
Mrs. Ellsworth's position in the doorway it was impossible to do so,
except by pushing her aside.

She rejoiced, however, in the order to put on the light in the corridor,
for this meant that after settling her mistress in bed and transferring
the dining-room coal scuttle to the bedroom she must return to switch the
electricity off. Then, with Mrs. Ellsworth out of the way, she could help
the man upstairs to escape, if the watchers had abandoned the game.

The tyrant, shuffling along in heelless woollen slippers, made the most
of her infirmity, and hung on the arm of her tall companion. In silence
they passed through the baize door at the end of the corridor, so into
the addition at the back of the house, which contained Mrs. Ellsworth's
room and bath, with another small room suitable for a maid, and occupied
by Annesley. This addition had been built a year or two before Annesley's
arrival, and saved Mrs. Ellsworth the necessity of mounting and
descending the stairs, as she used the dining room to sit in and seldom
went into the drawing room on the floor above. Annesley was not surprised
to see that the fire in her mistress's room was still a bank of glowing
coals, for one of Mrs. Ellsworth's pleasures was to represent herself in
the light of a martyr. The girl made no remark, however: she was far too