"Yes. Aaron went straight to the backdoor from the front, fastened up that, and in like manner carried away the key. Believe me, dear Mr. Kettle, there was no chance that Katherine could go out of the house. And why should she wish to do so?"
"Well, go on, child. You found the room empty yourself in the middle of the night--was it not so?"
"Yes--and that was a strange thing, very strange," replied Ella, musingly. "I went to bed as usual, and slept well; but at four o'clock in the morning I was suddenly awakened by hearing, as I thought, Uncle Gilbert calling me. I awoke in a fright, you must understand, and I don't know why: I have thought since that I must have had some disagreeable dream, though I did not remember it. I sat up in bed to listen, not really knowing whether Uncle Gilbert had called me, or whether I had only dreamt it----"
"You could not hear your uncle calling all the way up in the north wing, Ella," interrupted Miss Kettle.
"No; and I knew, if he had called, that he must have left his room and come to the stairs. I heard no more, but I was uneasy and felt that I ought to go and see. I put on my slippers and my warm dressing-gown, and lighted my candle; but--you will forgive me my foolishness, I hope--I felt too nervous to go down alone, though again I say I knew not why I should feel so, and I thought I would call Katherine to go with me. I opened her door and entered, not remembering until afterwards that I ought to have found it locked. The first thing I saw was her candle burnt down to the socket, its last sparks were just flickering, and that the bed had not been slept in. Katherine's apron and cap were lying there, but she was gone."
"It is most strange," cried Mr. Kettle.
"It is more than strange," returned Ella, with a half sob.
"And, my dear, had your uncle called you?"
"No. He had had a good night, and was sleeping still."
"Well, I can't make it out. Was Katherine in bad spirits that last evening?"