They had now reached the great flight of steps that flanked either side of the entrance door.
When they got to the top, by one accord they paused, and leant over the castellated ivy-clad wall that protected the platform of granite slabs connecting the two flights of steps, and gazed out into the evening, but a sudden horrible sound made Mrs. Waring jump nervously, then quiver from head to foot, and caused her husband’s brows to contract as sharply as if there had been a spring in them.
It turned out to be Gwen scraping an old violin and coughing frightfully all down the corridor.
“Dearest, do you think we should summon Dr. Guy?” said Mr. Waring when they had somewhat recovered.
“Oh no, love, Mary assures me there is no danger whatever, she calls that dreadful noise ‘a simple stomach cough’.”
“In that case we must request Mary to keep her in the nursery, such noises are most upsetting. Pray be as quick as you can, my darling, we might get to work at once. But surely it is not the gong I hear?”
“Love, I fear it is only too true,” cried Mrs. Waring in trembling distress. “I had no idea of the lateness of the hour, and oh, Henry, we were late again yesterday and the servants were quite upset. Oh, you will be quick with your dressing, will you not?”
Then with one last little hand-squeeze she fled to her room with a terrified glance into the solemn face of a hurt-looking footman.
CHAPTER IV.
When he had bidden farewell to the Warings in his porch and watched them curiously till a clump of firs hid them from him, Mr. Fellowes went back to his study with a very curious assortment of expressions on his face; there was a good deal of amusement there, a decided touch of sadness, much doubt, and some dismay.