“Some adverse influence is at work,” said Funkelstein, with some vexation. “What is in that closet?”
So saying he approached the door of the private staircase, and opened it. They saw him start aside, and a veiled dark figure pass him, cross the library, and go out by another door.
“I have my suspicions,” said Funkelstein, with a rather tremulous voice.
“And your fears too, I think. Grant it now,” said Mr. Arnold.
“Granted, Mr. Arnold. Let us go to the drawing-room.”
Just as Margaret had reached the library door at the bottom of the private stair, either a puff of wind from an open loophole window, or some other cause, destroyed the arrangement of the veil, and made it fall quite over her face, She stopped for a moment to readjust it. She had not quite succeeded, when Funkelstein opened the door. Without an instant’s hesitation, she let the veil fall, and walked forward.
Mrs. Elton had gone to her own room, on her way to Lady Emily’s. When she reached the latter, she found Margaret seated as she had left her, by the bedside. Lady Emily said:
“I did not miss you, Margaret, half so much as I expected. But, indeed, you were not many moments gone. I do not care for that man now. He can’t hurt me, can he?”
“Certainty not. I hope he will give you no more trouble either, dear Lady Emily. But if I might presume to advise you, I would say—Get well as soon as you can, and leave this place.”
“Why should I? You frighten me. Mr. Arnold is very kind to me.”