Then a knock came to the door. I started and turned round. It was only the old butler. I felt just as if a bucket of lukewarm water had been emptied on me,--deep disappointment, why I felt so I can't tell. He wanted to know if I required anything more to eat--supper. No, I required nothing to eat. He stood shuffling at the door as if he wanted to say something, his dismal old face looked more troubled than ever. I thought for a moment he was going to cry. Then suddenly he shut the door and came across the room. He stood before me, twiddling a book that lay on a little table. He looked at the carpet, then at the fire, then at me, then he spoke-- "I have been in the service of the family forty and nine years, ma'am." "Have you?" I answered, I didn't know what else to say. "Forty and nine years come next October. Oh, ma'am, I've seen strange things in those years, and--the world's a strange place." "It is." "Ma'am, Miss Geraldine knows you are here, and she will come in to see you presently." "Miss Geraldine--was--was that the young lady--I mean, was it she who arrived in the carriage just now?" "It was, ma'am, and that's why I want to tell you. Mr James told me to tell you; it's only beknownst to Mr James and I--God help me--God help us all--Miss Geraldine--is a boy." "A boy," I said, half rising out of my chair; "what do you say--how--how can a girl be a boy?" "Hush, ma'am, for the love of God don't speak above your breath. People may be listening, and no one knows it, _not even Miss Geraldine herself_." I was sitting now with my mouth hanging open like a trap; I must have looked the picture of a fool. "Not even herself, God bless her sweet face, not even herself, and that's not the worst, ma'am,--she _is_ a girl, though she's been born a boy." The old fellow had suddenly collapsed into the easy chair opposite to me; he had taken his face between his scraggy old hands, his head was bent between his knees, the light of the lamp fell on the shiny black back of his coat. I shall never forget him as he sat there, speaking between his legs as if to someone under the chair. "She's Beatrice Sinclair, that's who she is, and they must be blind who don't see it. Beatrice Sinclair, Beatrice Sinclair, she, the one that was killed long and ages ago by Sir Gerald. Beatrice Sinclair, whose picture is in the gallery, and that's who she is, that's who she is." He was rocking about and droning this out like a dirge. I can tell you I felt shivering and fascinated. Then all at once he sat up and seemed to remember himself. I saw tears on his poor old face. He seemed trying to rise out of the arm chair. "Sit down, don't get up," I said. "Tell me, for I must know, tell me exactly what you know, tell me all about it, and how it is that Miss Geraldine is--what she is." "It was done to avoid the evil chance, ma'am." "What do you mean?" "You must know, ma'am, that the two houses of Sinclair and Wilder----"