"And with that the other lifted his hand, and I heard the sound of the blow even where I stood."
"Did Warwick return it?"
"I think not. I did not wait to see, however, but went on along the hall. I turned, though, as I reached the end, and saw Mr. Warwick step out of the library and walk toward the stairs. He had gone up perhaps three steps when he stopped and was about to turn back; but, though he was fairly shaking with anger, he thought better of it and went on up to his room."
"At what time was this?"
"Immediately after dinner." If such a thing were possible, the old woman sat more erect than ever, the craggy brows bent over the sharp eyes, and the voice sank a tone lower. "And as Philip Warwick went up the stairs, I saw Miss Stella come out of the room opposite the library; she stood looking after him—and on her face was a look which I had never noticed there before. She had seen what had happened, and for some reason was glad of it.
"There was nothing more, until I left the front door some time later and went to the kitchen to make the coffee. Then I heard something on the back stairs. Thinking it might be Drevenoff, taken bad, I opened the door. But it was Miss Stella and Mr. Warwick. They stood on the landing, and were talking in low tones. I could not help overhearing what they said; and I remember it because I have repeated it over and over to myself a thousand times since then.
"'Is it possible?' Mr. Warwick said. 'Have you really got it?'
"I did not hear what was said in answer; and then he spoke again.
"'But how in the world did you manage it? I know he thinks a great deal of you, but I never dreamed that he'd give——'
"Here she must have stopped him by putting her fingers to his lips, a way that she had.