A cold ooze broke over her; her natural womanly fears became rampant; her fancy pictured the form of murder which the crawling wretch she had to deal with would most surely employ. At once the dull waves of the pool where she had encountered the sleuth-hound and his monster occurred to her; its cold chill waters enveloped her heart; the weeds and mud chocked her even more than the fancied hand at her throat; that gleaming stiletto seemed driven into her bosom; for a time she lived through the agonies of actual death. But she was naturally a brave woman, notwithstanding all her timidity; yes, a dauntless creature, whose generous blood was sure to rise before wrong and danger. She shook of the slavish terror which threatened to overcome her altogether, and set herself to her next course of action. "And now for my night's work," she said, glancing round the room, where a fire burned redly in the grate, and the ghostly December day faded from point to point. She quietly made arrangements against being interrupted; rang the bell, and called to the maid through the door that she had retired for the night, and did not wish any dinner, except a cup of strong coffee, which should be brought to her by the housekeeper. Then she carefully locked her window, and closed the massive mahogany shutters, lit her candles, drew her writing-table before the fire, swept the hearth, and saw that she had a supply of candles, matches, and pens. By the time these arrangements were completed, the housekeeper was knocking at the door with the edge of a lunch-tray. "Has Colonel Brand left the house?" called Margaret. "Yes, miss, some time ago." "Are you sure he's not lurking about your back, Mrs. Chetwode?" "Holy mercy! I hope not." Sounds of the tray being dumped on a hall-table ensued, and the hurried tread of the old woman showed that she was looking into various empty rooms. "What made you think such a queer thing, dearie?" whispered she, presently, through the key-hole. "I seen him go out, plain as plain can be." Margaret opened the door, and held out her hands for the tray. "What did he say to my message?" The housekeeper gave an expressive shudder. "Ugh! He swore like a blasphemer at me, Miss Margaret, dear." "Keep watch lest any of the doors be left open to-night, Mrs. Chetwode." "Oh, yes, miss--though I'm sure Purcell is very careful. My goody! Miss Margaret, how wild you look! Surely you can't be well?" "Oh, yes. Do not let any one disturb me to-night again, if you please. Good-night." "Sleep soundly, miss. Good-night." The door was locked again, and Margaret sat down to her cup of coffee and her ponderings. She was quite calm, quite strong of purpose when she opened her desk, laid the note-book upon it, and began her task. And what a story these notes, remarks, and hinted plots disclosed to her!