"My wife will need a slight supper before she goes to bed," said he. "Will you be good enough to see that one is brought?"
She roused herself up with quite a startled look of wonder.
"Why, Edwin," she began, "I never have been in the habit—"
But he hushed her at once.
"I know what is best for you," said he. "A small plate of luncheon, Mrs. Truax; and let it be nice and inviting."
I courtesied, gave her another glance, and went out. Her countenance had not lost its look of wonder. Was he going to be considerate, after all?
The lunch was prepared and taken to her.
Not long after this the inn quieted down, and such guests as were in the house prepared for rest. Midnight came; all was dark in room and hall. I was sure of this, for I went through the whole building myself, contrary to my usual habit, which was to leave this task to my man-of-all-work, Burritt. All was dark, all was quiet, and I was just dropping off to sleep, when there shot up suddenly from below a shriek, which was quickly smothered, but not so quickly that I did not recognize in it that tone which is only given by hideous distress or mortal fear.
"It is Mrs. Urquhart!" I cried in terror, to myself; and plunging into my clothes, I hurried down stairs.