"Mr. Ravenor, sir. I haven't got one at all. You were saying something about a message?" "Yes. Mr. Ravenor was annoyed with you for letting Lady Silchester through, but he has decided to overlook it this time. You need not go up to the Castle for your money." The man was evidently pleased. "I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you, sir," he said warmly. "That's good news and no mistake. It isn't a place that one would care to lose." "Well, good night, Anderson. Oh, I say," I added, turning back on a sudden impulse, "how long is it since Mr. Marx was here?" Anderson looked puzzled. "Mr. Marx, sir! Why, I haven't seen him all day!" "What!" I exclaimed. "I haven't seen him all day. He hasn't been here," the man repeated. I stood still, breathless, full of swiftly rising but vague suspicions. "Not seen him to-day! Why, I met him in the avenue just now," I declared. "I daresay, sir," the man remarked quietly. "He often walks down this way. In fact, he does most evenings before dinner. Queer sort he is, and no mistake." The man's words changed the current of my thoughts, and my half-conceived suspicions faded away almost before they had gathered shape. I made some trifling remark and started homewards. CHAPTER XIII. THE CLOUD BETWEEN US. It was late when I reached home and, from the darkness in all the windows, I concluded that my mother and the one country domestic who comprised our little household had already retired. My hand was raised to rap at the closed door, when it occurred to me that I might just as well effect an entrance without disturbing anyone. Our sitting-room window opened on to the front garden in which I stood and was seldom fastened, so I stole softly over the sodden grass and pressed the sash upwards. It yielded easily to my touch and, gently raising myself on to the low stone window-sill, I vaulted into the room. At first I thought it was, as I had expected to find it, empty. But it was not so. Through the open window by which I had just entered the moonlight was streaming in, casting long, fantastic rays upon the well-worn carpet and across the quaint, old-fashioned furniture and on the white tablecloth, on which my homely evening meal had been left prepared. But my eyes never rested for a moment on any of these familiar objects, scarcely even noticed them, for another and a stranger sight held me spellbound. At the farther end of the room, where the shadows hung darkest and the moonbeams but feebly penetrated, was the kneeling figure of a woman.