Through the silence there sounded the silvery tinkle of a little bell. Betty uttered a low exclamation.
“She rings as if she is out of temper,” muttered Betty, harshly. “Oh, well! I don’t believe she will trouble me with her overbearing tyranny much longer. I’m off, Gilbert. Don’t forget the arrangements.”
“Of course not. Make haste, or the old woman will arouse the house.”
Betty disappeared swiftly in the direction of Mrs. Yorke’s chamber, and Violet stood still in the darkness and waited for Gilbert Warrington to leave before she would dare return to the inhabited portion of the house.
A strange feeling weighed down her heart like a load—a certainty that something was about to happen. What was wrong? What awful calamity was about to fall upon the house of Yorke?
She thought of the two faces dimly revealed by the faint light from the hall-way—the face of the man dark and ferocious, the crafty eyes glowing with evil fire, the thin, compressed lips, the huge yellow teeth like the fangs of a wolf about to spring upon its prey. Then she recalled the face of the woman—the wrinkled, sallow countenance, with its cruel eyes and ugly mouth, and it was not pleasant to think of.
There was something sinister in it all, and Violet could only wonder why Mrs. Yorke had retained her so long in her employ.
“I will follow her,” the girl said to herself, “and see what evil deed she is about to do.”
Gathering her skirts closely about her, she glided down the narrow passage, keeping close against the wall, and so emerged at last into the outer corridor, leaving Gilbert Warrington still at the extremity of the long, dark passage which led to the east chamber.
Once in the main corridor, Violet paused an instant to collect her thoughts; then she darted swiftly, noiselessly along to the door of Mrs. Yorke’s room. It stood wide open. Violet slipped into the room and concealed herself behind it. The position of the door was such that she could easily see, without being seen, all that was taking place in the room.