Josina’s first impulse was to hurry after him, but seeing the paper in his hand and recognizing, as she fancied, the agreement that he had signed on the Saturday, she followed him softly, without letting him know that she was there. He reached the foot of the staircase, and with an accustomed hand he groped for and found the door of the dining-room. He pushed open the door and went in. He closed the door behind him, and distinctly—the house was very quiet, it was the dead of the afternoon—she heard him turn the key in the lock. That alarmed her, for if he fell or met with an accident, there would be a difficulty in assisting him. She moved to the door and listened. She heard him passing slowly and carefully across the floor, she heard the table creak under his hand, as he reached it. A moment later her ear caught the jingle of a bunch of keys. His visit had a purpose, then. He might be going to deposit the lease, but she could not imagine where. His papers were in his own room or in his bedroom. And Calamy had the wine, it could not be that he wanted. For a moment her thoughts reverted to her own trouble, and she sighed. Then she caught again the jingle of keys, and she listened, her head bent low. What could he be doing? And would he be able to find the door again? Presently the silence was broken by an oath, followed by a rustling sound, as if he were handling papers. This lasted for quite a minute, and then there came from the room a strange, half-strangled cry, a cry that stopped the beating of her heart. She seized the handle of the door and turned it, shook it. But the door, as she knew, was locked, and, terrified, she cried, “Father! Father! What is it? What is it?” She beat on the door. He did not answer, but she heard him coming towards her, moving at random, striking against the table, overturning a chair. She trembled for him; he might fall at any moment, and the door was locked. But he did not fall. He reached the door and turned the key. The door opened. She saw him. Her fears had not been baseless. The light in the doorway was poor on that cheerless December day, but it was enough to show her that the Squire’s face was distorted and drawn, altered by some strange shock. And he was shaking in all his limbs. The moment that she touched him he gripped her arm, and “Come here! Come here!” he ordered, his voice piping and high. “Lock the door! Lock the door, girl!” And when she had done this, “Do you see that cupboard? D’you see it?” She was alarmed, for, whatever might be its cause, she was sure that the excitement under which he labored was dangerous for him. But she had her wits about her, and the nerved herself to do what he wanted. She saw the open cupboard, of the existence of which she had not known, but she showed no surprise. “Yes, I see it, sir,” she said. She put his arm through hers, striving to calm him by her presence.