But as she spoke I heard sounds again in the hall below: a man's step this time; and the truth leaped out on me.
"Madam," I said, pushing past her, "there is someone in the house—"
"Someone—?"
"Mr. Brympton, I think—I hear his step below—"
A dreadful look came over her, and without a word, she dropped flat at my feet. I fell on my knees and tried to lift her: by the way she breathed I saw it was no common faint. But as I raised her head there came quick steps on the stairs and across the hall: the door was flung open, and there stood Mr. Brympton, in his travelling-clothes, the snow dripping from him. He drew back with a start as he saw me kneeling by my mistress.
"What the devil is this?" he shouted. He was less high-colored than usual, and the red spot came out on his forehead.
"Mrs. Brympton has fainted, sir," said I.
He laughed unsteadily and pushed by me. "It's a pity she didn't choose a more convenient moment. I'm sorry to disturb her, but—"
I raised myself up, aghast at the man's action.
"Sir," said I, "are you mad? What are you doing?"