This was a bad hearing; but Lucius bore the shock calmly enough. Troubles and perplexities had rained thickly upon him of late, and there is a kind of stoicism which grows out of familiarity with sorrow. ‘Take me to Miss Sivewright’s room,’ he said quietly, ‘and let me see what is the matter.’ ‘I’ve moved her out of the little dressing-room into her own room,’ said Mrs. Wincher; ‘me and my good gentleman carried the bed with her on it while she was asleep. I thought as how it wouldn’t do for her grandpa to hear her carrying on that wild.’ ‘You were right enough there. Yet she was a faithful guardian, and your master is now in the power of his foes.’ ‘Foes, sir? What foes can he have in this house?’ ‘The same people who found their way to the plate in the muniment chest might find their way to Mr. Sivewright’s room,’ said Lucius. ‘Lor, sir, how you do frighten one! But what harm could even thieves and robbers want to do to a harmless old man, unless he stood between ’em and the property?’ ‘I won’t stop to discuss that question with you now, Mrs. Wincher. I shall have something to say to you and your husband presently. Have the detectives gone?’ ‘Yes, sir; but they’re coming back the same time to-night. One of ’em left a bit of a note for you. It’s on the kitchen chimleypiece. I’ll run and fetch it if you like.’ ‘Not till you have taken me to Miss Sivewright’s room. Is she alone all this time?’ ‘Yes, sir; but she was asleep when I left her. She dozes off every now and then.’ ‘She must have a nurse to watch her, sleeping or waking.’ Mrs. Wincher led the way up-stairs, and to one of the doors in the corridor out of which Mr. Sivewright’s room opened. For the first time Lucius found himself in Lucille’s room—a spacious airy apartment, with three windows deep set in the solid walls, and provided with broad oak window-seats. A scantily furnished chamber, yet with that grace and prettiness of aspect which a girl’s taste can give to the poorest surroundings. There were books, a few water-coloured sketches on the walls, a few oddments of old china tastefully disposed on the high oak chimneypiece, white muslin curtains to the windows, a well-worn Persian carpet in the centre of the dark oak floor—everywhere the most perfect neatness, cleanliness the most scrupulous. Lucille was sleeping when Lucius and Mrs. Wincher entered; but at the sound of her lover’s footsteps, lightly as he trod, she started, opened her eyes, and looked at him. O, how sad to see those sweet eyes looking at him thus, without recognition! how sad to mark that dreamy unconscious stare in eyes that yesterday had been full of meaning! Lucius sank into a chair by the bed, fairly overcome. It was some moments before he was sufficiently master of himself to approach the case professionally, to go through the usual formula, with an aching heart.