At the first glance it seemed altogether strange and unfamiliar. Lady Sarah's hair was brown and luxurious--these straggling locks were white as snow; Lady Sarah had well-marked brows and regular teeth, but when she lifted the handkerchief which covered the face, the brows were missing and the lips fell in around toothless gums. Mildred stood transfixed, but even as she gazed, she became aware of a faint, sickly odour, which seemed to rise from the handkerchief which she held in her hand. She raised it to her face and shuddered with disgust as the remembrance of a dentist's operating-room came swiftly to mind. That wicked Cecile! Had she been using something to make Lady Sarah unconscious? And was that the reason why she lay so still, and made no attempt to open her eyes? Mildred dared not turn up the gas in case the light might be seen from without and excite suspicion, but she peered about the dressing-table, discovered a bottle of salts among the litter of silver ornaments, and with the aid of this and a plenteous sprinkling of water, managed to arouse the old lady to consciousness. The flattened eyelids opened, and Lady Sarah stared upwards with dreamy unrecognising eyes, for in the uncertain light the figure of the girl in her white robes and flowing golden hair seemed more like a heavenly visitant than a flesh-and-blood girl. "Who,--who,--what are you?" she muttered, and Mildred bent nearer with a reassuring smile. "It is I--Mildred! Mildred Moore. I heard you call and came to see what was wrong. Don't be frightened, Lady Sarah. You know me--you know Mildred! I will take care of you--No one shall do you any harm." Lady Sarah continued to stare with those dazed, bewildered eyes, then suddenly the light of understanding flashed over her face, her fingers clasped the girl's arm, and she glanced wildly from side to side. "Cecile? Cecile?" "She is not here, Lady Sarah. She has gone downstairs. I saw her go, and came in here at once to look after you." "Gone? Downstairs?" Lady Sarah pushed the girl away, and drawing herself up in the bed, began groping hurriedly beneath her pillow. "The key? It is gone--she has taken it! Oh, Mildred, the key of the safe in the strong-room. I had it here. I slept with it under my pillow. She tried to take it from me, and I wouldn't give it up.--She is a thief, Mildred, a cunning, wicked woman, and when she could not get it from me by force, she put chloroform on that handkerchief and held it over my face. She has accomplices downstairs. They will open the safe and get away before anyone knows they are here. There are valuables of my own there besides Mrs Faucit's. We shall never see them again, and I was left in charge. The wicked woman! She has been scheming for this. Oh, she is cruel, she is dangerous--she will kill you, child, if she comes back and finds you here."