“And you accepted?” “Yes. I wanted to get warm again.” “And are you warm?” “Yes. Every Wednesday night. If it were not for that I should grow cold again.” A silence. Then: “Who lived here before Mr. Barringcourt?” “A man who died. His name was Geoffrey Todbrook.” “What?” “Geoffrey Todbrook.” “Why, he’s the man who started homes for incurables. There was one for the dumb and deaf and blind. I should have gone there.” “I have heard he was very charitable. He left this house to Mr. Barringcourt.” “Were they related?” “No; I rather think myself the Master had let it to him on a lease. Then when the lease expired he died, and left a will to smooth all difficulties.” “Was Mr. Barringcourt living in the city before Mr. Todbrook’s death?” “Oh, no! I don’t think he had ever been here before. He took me to the opera one Wednesday night, and he said it was only the second time he had been there.” “The opera? Did you like it?” “Yes, I liked it; but it made my head ache. I was trying to remember something all the time.” “Do you often go out with him?” “Oh, no; that would be to get oneself talked about. Besides, so long as we remain here, I am but a servant.” “Why does Mr. Barringcourt keep me here?” “I expect you have some secret he wishes to discover, otherwise he would not trouble himself about you. When he took me to the opera it was to discover something.” “What?” “I don’t know.” “Then how can you tell?” “Because, up to the time we went, and through the performance, he was very affable to me. Afterwards he took no more notice of me, and never has done.” “Don’t you hate him?” “Why should I? I had no secret. His conduct was permissible; and I had rather be left alone.” “And what secret can I have that he should be agreeable to me?” “I cannot tell. Perhaps, like me, you have none. But if you have, rest assured you will not leave this house till it has been discovered.” “Have you ever had anyone staying here before in the same way that I am?” “Not in my time. People with secrets worth knowing are few and far between.” “Then what can make the Master think such an insignificant person as I could hold a secret?” “I cannot tell. I only said it might be so; there is no other reason why he should tolerate your company?” Rosalie laughed, despite a very uneasy feeling in her mind. “Do you ever have company here?” “Yes. Last Christmas there was a ball, and we had two or three dinner parties and entertainments. Lady Flamington generally acts as hostess. She and Sir James are very friendly with Mr. Barringcourt.” “What is she like?” “Very beautiful, I think, with very pleasing manners. She must be so to please the Master; he is so hard to please.” “Perhaps she has a secret?” “Oh, no; I hardly think so. He makes a convenience of her.” “Good gracious!” and Rosalie laughed. “You don’t give him an enviable character.” “I speak as truthfully as my perceptions allow me; but at times I may be wrong.”