CHAPTER III.

THE NIGHT OF THE TRAGEDY


To make this part of my story clear, I append the following plan
of the first floor of Styles. The servants' rooms are reached
through the door B. They have no communication with the right
wing, where the Inglethorps' rooms were situated.

It seemed to be the middle of the night when I was awakened by
Lawrence Cavendish. He had a candle in his hand, and the
agitation of his face told me at once that something was
seriously wrong.

"What's the matter?" I asked, sitting up in bed, and trying to
collect my scattered thoughts.

"We are afraid my mother is very ill. She seems to be having
some kind of fit. Unfortunately she has locked herself in."

"I'll come at once."

I sprang out of bed; and, pulling on a dressing-gown, followed
Lawrence along the passage and the gallery to the right wing of
the house.

John Cavendish joined us, and one or two of the servants were
standing round in a state of awe-stricken excitement. Lawrence