With a stifled cry she sat up, and then she realised, with a gasp of relief, that she had been dreaming, only dreaming--but her heart went on beating for a long time with the excitement, the mingled terror and exaltation of spirit, she had just gone through. At last, feeling curiously languid and shaken, she went downstairs, and had tea in the drawing-room. It was only a little after five; probably Oliver would not come in till just before it was time to dress for dinner. The stillness of the house oppressed her. She got up, and moved restlessly about the room. The curtains had been drawn and the fire made up while she had been upstairs. She went across to one of the windows, and, behind the closed curtains, opened it widely. And as she opened the window, and stood by it, breathing in the cold, moist air, she heard the sound of branches being pushed aside across a little-used path which was even a shorter cut to The Chase than was the beech-wood avenue. Then Oliver was coming home earlier than Laura had thought he would? She stepped out quickly into the open air, on to the flagged path. She could hear quick footsteps now--but they were not Oliver's footsteps. It was probably a maid coming back from the village which lay beyond The Chase. But even so there crept a slight feeling of anxiety over her heart. "Who's there?" she called out. Close out of the twilit darkness there came the instant hoarse answer: "It's Laura, Aunt Letty." "Laura? Oh, my dear, you'll catch cold!" for Laura, without hat or cloak, was now there, before her. "Aunt Letty? I've brought bad news--there's been an accident." "To Oliver?" But she knew, even as she asked the question, what the answer would be. "Yes--Oliver. They went on too long in the twilight--he stumbled, and his gun went off. They're bringing him home--now." Laura was staring before her, her eyes veiled, glassy, like those of a blind woman. "They wanted to bring him to The Chase. But there was a doctor there, and he said nothing would be of any use. So I told them to bring him home--to you." Both women waited in the grateful darkness, dry-eyed and still. At last Mrs. Tropenell said uncertainly: "Come indoors, Laura." But Laura shook her head. "No, I'd rather stay out here, if you don't mind, Aunt Letty." Not quite knowing what she was doing or why, Mrs. Tropenell walked forward and opened the door into the hall. There she took down a cloak, and coming out again, she put it round Laura. And they stood there waiting--till there broke on their ears the heavy tramp of men's feet carrying a burden. CHAPTER XXIX It was arranged between Lord St. Amant and the coroner--who was his lordship's own medical attendant (when he required a medical attendant, which was seldom)--that the inquest should be held at Freshley Manor.