Unless, of course,” she added, “such a thing is forbidden
by my Father. Oh! forgive me, Mr. Marvin, if I seem rude; but I have
been in such dreadful trouble and anxiety lately, that I have hardly
command of myself.”  She covered her eyes with her hand for a few
seconds; we two men looked at each other and waited, trying to appear
unmoved. She went on more firmly; she had recovered herself:

“Please! please do not think I am ungrateful to you for your kindness
in coming here and so quickly. I really am grateful; and I have every
confidence in your judgment. If you wish, or think it best, we can be
alone.”  I stood up; but Mr. Marvin made a dissentient gesture. He was
evidently pleased with her attitude; there was geniality in his voice
and manner as he spoke:

“Not at all! Not at all! There is no restriction on your Father’s
part; and on my own I am quite willing. Indeed, all told, it may be
better. From what you have said of Mr. Trelawny’s illness, and the
other—incidental—matters, it will be well in case of any grave
eventuality, that it was understood from the first, that circumstances
were ruled by your Father’s own imperative instructions. For, please
understand me, his instructions are imperative—most imperative. They
are so unyielding that he has given me a Power of Attorney, under which
I have undertaken to act, authorising me to see his written wishes
carried out. Please believe me once for all, that he intended fully
everything mentioned in that letter to you! Whilst he is alive he is
to remain in his own room; and none of his property is to be removed
from it under any circumstances whatever. He has even given an
inventory of the articles which are not to be displaced.”

Miss Trelawny was silent. She looked somewhat distressed; so, thinking
that I understood the immediate cause, I asked:

“May we see the list?”  Miss Trelawny’s face at once brightened; but it
fell again as the lawyer answered promptly—he was evidently prepared
for the question:

“Not unless I am compelled to take action on the Power of Attorney. I
have brought that instrument with me. You will recognise, Mr.
Ross”—he said this with a sort of business conviction which I had
noticed in his professional work, as he handed me the deed—“how
strongly it is worded, and how the grantor made his wishes apparent in
such a way as to leave no loophole. It is his own wording, except for
certain legal formalities; and I assure you I have seldom seen a more
iron-clad document. Even I myself have no power to make the slightest
relaxation of the instructions, without committing a distinct breach of
faith. And that, I need not tell you, is impossible.” He evidently
added the last words in order to prevent an appeal to his personal
consideration. He did not like the seeming harshness of his words,
however, for he added:

“I do hope, Miss Trelawny, that you understand that I am
willing—frankly and unequivocally willing—to do anything I can,
within the limits of my power, to relieve your distress. But your
Father had, in all his doings, some purpose of his own which he did not
disclose to me. So far as I can see, there is not a word of his
instructions that he had not thought over fully. Whatever idea he had
in his mind was the idea of a lifetime; he had studied it in every
possible phase, and was prepared to guard it at every point. “Now I fear I have distressed you, and I am truly sorry for it; for I
see you have much—too much—to bear already. But I have no
alternative. If you want to consult me at any time about anything, I
promise you I will come without a moment’s delay, at any hour of the
day or night. There is my private address,” he scribbled in his
pocket-book as he spoke, “and under it the address of my club, where I
am generally to be found in the evening.”  He tore out the paper and
handed it to her. She thanked him. He shook hands with her and with
me and withdrew. As soon as the hall door was shut on him, Mrs. Grant tapped at the door
and came in. There was such a look of distress in her face that Miss
Trelawny stood up, deadly white, and asked her:

“What is it, Mrs. Grant? What is it? Any new trouble?”

“I grieve to say, miss, that the servants, all but two, have given
notice and want to leave the house today. They have talked the matter
over among themselves; the butler has spoken for the rest. He says as
how they are willing to forego their wages, and even to pay their legal
obligations instead of notice; but that go today they must.”

“What reason do they give?”

“None, miss. They say as how they’re sorry, but that they’ve nothing
to say. I asked Jane, the upper housemaid, miss, who is not with the
rest but stops on; and she tells me confidential that they’ve got some
notion in their silly heads that the house is haunted!”

We ought to have laughed, but we didn’t. I could not look in Miss
Trelawny’s face and laugh. The pain and horror there showed no sudden
paroxysm of fear; there was a fixed idea of which this was a
confirmation. For myself, it seemed as if my brain had found a voice. But the voice was not complete; there was some other thought, darker
and deeper, which lay behind it, whose voice had not sounded as yet. Chapter VI

Suspicions


The first to get full self-command was Miss Trelawny. There was a
haughty dignity in her bearing as she said:

“Very well, Mrs. Grant; let them go! Pay them up to today, and a
month’s wages. They have hitherto been very good servants; and the
occasion of their leaving is not an ordinary one. We must not expect
much faithfulness from any one who is beset with fears. Those who
remain are to have in future double wages; and please send these to me
presently when I send word.”  Mrs. Grant bristled with smothered
indignation; all the housekeeper in her was outraged by such generous
treatment of servants who had combined to give notice:

“They don’t deserve it, miss; them to go on so, after the way they have
been treated here. Never in my life have I seen servants so well
treated or anyone so good to them and gracious to them as you have
been. They might be in the household of a King for treatment. And now,
just as there is trouble, to go and act like this. It’s abominable,
that’s what it is!”

Miss Trelawny was very gentle with her, and smothered her ruffled
dignity; so that presently she went away with, in her manner, a lesser
measure of hostility to the undeserving. In quite a different frame of
mind she returned presently to ask if her mistress would like her to
engage a full staff of other servants, or at any rate try to do so. “For you know, ma’am,” she went on, “when once a scare has been
established in the servants’ hall, it’s wellnigh impossible to get rid
of it. Servants may come; but they go away just as quick. There’s no
holding them. They simply won’t stay; or even if they work out their
month’s notice, they lead you that life that you wish every hour of the
day that you hadn’t kept them.