He led her along the dark passage, and a strange chill of dread struck upon Gertrude. As they reached the first landing, a light suddenly shone out, and a few steps higher she gazed wonderingly at the weird figure of an old woman, with long, grey, unkempt hair, holding an ill-smelling paraffin lamp high above her head.
There was an intent, curious, inquiring look in the old woman’s eyes, as they seemed to fasten upon the new-comer, gradually growing vindictive, as they passed her without a word.
“Who is that?” whispered Gertrude.
“Servant,” said Huish laconically. “Won’t make you jealous, eh?”
“John,” she whispered back in a pained voice; “why do you speak to me like that?”
“Oh, it’s only my way,” he said flippantly. “Come along.”
They went up farther, and, reaching the second floor, Huish threw open the door of a comfortable, well-lit room, and drew her in, hastily opened the door of communication with the next room, satisfied himself that it was empty, went on and locked the farther door leading out to the landing, and returned.
“There,” he said; “you will be safe here.”
“Oh yes, John dear,” she said, gazing at him wonderingly, “his manner seemed so strange; but I am so anxious to know.”
“Yes, yes; all in good time, dear,” he cried. “There, off with that hat and jacket. Why, my dear,” he cried, “you look lovely!”