As she set down the candle there arose a sudden awful sound in Daisy's room.
Muriel stood still. "Oh, what is that?"
Grange paused in the act of dragging on his coat. "It's that damned ayah," he said savagely.
And in a second Muriel understood. Daisy's ayah was wailing for the dead.
She put her hands over her ears. The dreadful cry seemed to pierce right through to her very soul. Then she remembered Daisy, and turned to go to her.
Out in the passage she met the white-faced English servants huddling together and whispering. One of them was sobbing hysterically. She passed them swiftly by.
Back in Daisy's room she found the ayah crouched on the floor, and rocking herself to and fro while she beat her breast and wailed. The door that led into the nursery was closed.
Muriel advanced fiercely upon the woman. She almost felt as if she could have choked her. She seized her by the shoulders without ceremony. The ayah ceased her wailing for a moment, then recommenced in a lower key. Muriel pulled her to her feet, half-dragged, half-led her to her own room, thrust her within, and locked the door upon her. Then she returned to Daisy.
She found her sunk in a rocking-chair before the waning fire, softly swaying to and fro with the baby on her breast. She looked at Muriel entering, with a set, still face.
"Has Blake gone?" she asked, still in that dry, powerless whisper.