Garth spoke tolerantly.
"These sounds must have come from up stairs. You've forgotten that Mr. Taylor was an invalid."
She cried out angrily.
"It wasn't like a man's or a woman's voice, and I can't tell where it came from. I tell you it was like a—a dead voice."
"You failed to trace it, of course," Garth said. "Describe to me what you did."
"I ran to the kitchen," she answered, "but, as I told you, there was no one there. McDonald had gone to bed, and so had his daughter."
Garth stooped swiftly forward and grasped her arm.
"What's that you're saying? His daughter! You mean to tell me McDonald has a daughter, and she was in the house last night?"
She shrank from his excited gesture.
"Yes. He asked me not to tell you, but I'm frightened. I don't want to get in trouble. She's the housekeeper. She engages all the servants and runs the house."