"Is it a tough old woman like me to be afeard of a sough of wind or a few drops of rain? No, no, my lamb! I'll go home this night, the saints being willin'!"
It is almost dark in the front hall as the girl passes through; only a faint gray light comes in at the open door.
In the drawing-room the windows stand open just as she left them; and, wondering a little at the old butler's carelessness, she proceeds to fasten them herself.
As she does so she sees a man cross the drive quickly from the servants' quarters at the back of the house. He is followed after a brief space of time by another man, and both disappear in the direction of the gates.
"I did not know they had visitors in the kitchen to-night," she says to herself, and straightway forgets all about it.
More than an hour passes before she hears her father's step in the hall.
"Where are the boys?" he says, as she comes out of the drawing-room to speak to him.
"They have not come from the colonel's yet. They said they might be late."
"A man has been shot on Keif Moss—shot dead, and by mistake for some one else, they tell me."
She reads the fear that is blanching the strong man's face, and making his voice sound low and husky in the empty hall.