I have said that I was an imaginative, thoughtful, excitable child, and as I hastened to obey her, one sole recollection (I could have said fear) kept running through my brain. It was the oracular observation made by Duff, relating to his mistress and the fog: "It's enough to give her her death!" Suppose she had caught her death? My fingers, fastening my narrow waist-band, trembled at the thought.
The first thing I saw when I went down was a large high screen of many folds, raised across the hall, shutting out part of it from view. It seemed to strike me back with fear. Sarah was coming out of the dining-room with a duster in her hand: it was early yet. I caught hold of her gown.
"Sarah, what is behind there?"
"The same that was last night, Miss," she answered. "Nothing is to be moved until the coroner has come.
"Have they taken Mr. Heneage?"
"Not that I have heard of, Miss. One of the police was in just now, and he told Miss Delves there was no news."
"I want to find Miss Delves. Where is she?"
"In master's study. You can go in. Don't you know which it is? It's that room built out at the back, half-way up the first flight of stairs. You can see the door from here."
In the study sat Mr. Barley and Mr. Edwin Barley at breakfast, Charlotte Delves serving them. I gave her my aunt's message, but was nearly scared out of my senses at being laid hold of by Mr. Edwin Barley.
"Go up at once, Charlotte, and see what it is," he said. "How do you say, little one—that her throat is bad?"