The voice in which she speaks is not the voice of Inez Catheron. The
butler looks at her, that great fear in his eyes.

"You haven't seen her, Miss Inez," he says. "It is a fearful
sight--but--will you come down?"

He almost dreads a refusal, but she does not refuse.

"I will go down," she answers, and turns at once to go.

The servants stand huddled together in the centre of the room. _It_
lies there, in its dreadful quiet, before them. Every eye turns darkly
upon Miss Catheron as she comes in.

She never sees them. She advances like a sleep-walker, that dazed,
dumb horror still in her eyes, the whiteness of death on her face. She
walks over and looks down upon the dead mistress of Catheron Royals.
No change comes over her--she softens neither into pity nor tears. So
long she stands there, so rigid she looks, so threatening are the eyes
that watch her, that Hooper interposes his portly figure between her
and them.

"Miss Inez," he says, "will you please give your orders? Shall I send
for Sir Victor at once, or--"

"Yes, send for Sir Victor at once." She arouses herself to say it.
"And I think you had better send to Chesholm for a doctor and--and the
police."

"The police!"