She opened the door of the spare room and looked
in. Yes; the man was gone--dead or alive--and there were no traces left
of his presence. The place was cleared up; the cupboard stood with open
doors, empty; the bed was made; the curtain pushed back; the sofa was
in its place against the wall; the window stood open. Nothing in the
room at all to show that there had been an occupant only two days
before. She stared blankly. The dead man was gone, then. Had her senses
altogether deceived her? Was he not dead, but only sleeping? Was her
horror only a thing of imagination? Behind her, in the hall, stood the
doctor, smiling, cheerful.
She remembered that her first business was to find her mistress. She
was not connected with the Dane. She closed the door and returned to
the hall.
"Well," asked the doctor, "have you made any discoveries? You see that
the house is deserted. You will perhaps learn before long why. Now what
will you do? Will you go back to London?"
"I must find her ladyship."
The doctor smiled.
"Had you come here in a different spirit," he said, "I would have
spared you all this trouble. You come, however, with suspicion written
on your face. You have always been suspecting and watching.
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