"Miss Stella."
Ashton-Kirk thought of the creaking bolt and the closing street door; and his voice was pitched sharply when he again asked the question:
"What has occurred?"
The old servant placed the brass candlestick upon one of the desks; she rubbed her hands secretively with a corner of her apron while she said:
"I have told you what I fear; I have been as plain as one can be who has no proof. And as the hours passed I have grown more and more suspicious. Not one movement did this girl make that my eyes were not on her; not one word did she speak that I was not seeking behind it for some hidden meaning.
"To-night, as you know, she sent Drevenoff to the city. It was something of which I had heard nothing until the young man spoke. What was this urgent thing that could not wait until morning? Why would not the telephone or telegraph do as well as a messenger? I did not understand it. And then she did not care to have you stay here to-night; that was very plain—you must have noticed it."
Ashton-Kirk nodded.
"Go on," said he.
"It does not need a great deal to make me suspicious," resumed the old woman; "and her manner to-night aroused me to wonder if there were not something afoot of which I knew nothing. So when I went to my room I put out the light, left the door ajar and sat listening. After a long time I knew there was a light in the hall below; I stole out and bent over the rail and listened. There was whispering, but I could catch no words. Then I heard some one descending the lower staircase; and so I stole down to the second floor. From the head of the stairs I watched once more; then I saw the light go up here in the library.
"I had already started to descend when Miss Stella appeared in the library doorway—and in her hand she held," the speaker pointed at the desk, "that candlestick."