"You may bring tea if Mr. Boyne is in," she said, to justify her
ring.

"Very well, Madam. But Mr. Boyne is not in," said Trimmle,
putting down the lamp.

"Not in? You mean he's come back and gone out again?"

"No, Madam. He's never been back."

The dread stirred again, and Mary knew that now it had her fast.

"Not since he went out with--the gentleman?"

"Not since he went out with the gentleman."

"But who WAS the gentleman?" Mary gasped out, with the sharp note
of some one trying to be heard through a confusion of meaningless
noises.

"That I couldn't say, Madam." Trimmle, standing there by the
lamp, seemed suddenly to grow less round and rosy, as though
eclipsed by the same creeping shade of apprehension.

"But the kitchen-maid knows--wasn't it the kitchen-maid who let
him in?"

"She doesn't know either, Madam, for he wrote his name on a
folded paper."