Well, of one thing at least I could be sure: I was in my own house. For the rest, I might be Rip van Winkle or the Sleeper Awakened. Who was this lady called "the mistress "? Who was Mr. Herbert? How came they here? And—deepest mystery of all—how came they to be expecting me? Some villainy of Trewlove's must be the clue of this tangle; and, holding to this clue, I resolved to follow whither fate might lead.
III.
William lifted my bag and led the way. On the first landing, where the doors stood open and the music went merrily to the last figure of the Lancers, we had to pick our way through a fantastic crowd which eyed me with polite curiosity. Couples seated on the next flight drew aside to let us pass. But the second landing was empty, and I halted for a moment at the door of my own workroom, within which lay my precious manuscript.
"This room is unoccupied?"
"Indeed, no, sir. The mistress considers it the cheerfullest in the 'ouse."
"Our tastes agree then."
"She had her bed moved in there the very first night."
"Indeed." I swung round on him hastily. "By-the-by, what is your mistress's name?"
He drew back a pace and eyed me with some embarrassment. "You'll excuse me, sir, but that ain't quite a fair question as between you and me."
"No? I should have thought it innocent enough."