Here Mr. Milsom's speech died away into an ominous growl; and James Harwood, who was rather a timid young man, felt as if drops of cold water had been running down his back. But the rum-punch was very nice; and he saw no reason why he should refuse Mr. Milsom's offer of friendship. He did drop in very often, having plenty of leisure evenings in which to amuse himself; and through him Thomas Milsom was enabled to become familiar with every detail of the household at Raynham Castle. "No news of your lady, I suppose, Mr. Harwood?" Milsom said to him one Sunday evening in January. "Not coming home yet, I suppose?" "No, Mr. Maunders," answered the groom; "not to my knowledge. And as to news, there ain't anymore news of her than if she and Miss Payland had gone off to the very wildest part of Africa, where, if you feel lonesome, and want company, your only choice lies between tigers and rattlesnakes." "Never mind Africa! What was it that you were going to say about your lady?" "Well, I was about to inform you," replied the groom, with offended dignity, "when you took me up so uncommon short as to prevent me--I was about to observe that, although we haven't received no news whatsoever from my lady direct, we have received a little bit of news promiscuous that is rather puzzling, in a manner of speaking." "What is it?" "Well, you see, Mr. Maunders," began James Harwood, with extreme solemnity, "it is given out that Lady Eversleigh is gone abroad to the Continent--wherever that place may be situated--and a very nice place I dare say it is, when you get there; and it is likewise given out that Miss Payland have gone with her." "Well, what then?" "I really wish you hadn't such a habit of taking people up short, Mr. Maunders," remonstrated the groom. "I was on the point of telling you that our head-coachman had a holiday this Christmas; and where does he go but up to London, to see his friends, which live there; and while in London where does he go but to Drury Lane Theatre; and while coming out of Drury Lane Theatre who does he set his eyes on but Miss Payland, Lady Eversleigh's own maid, as large as life, and hanging on the arm of a respectable elderly man, which might be her father. Our head-coachman warn't near enough to her to speak to her; and though he tried to catch her eye he couldn't catch it; but he'll take his Bible oath that the young woman he saw was Jane Payland, Lady Eversleigh's own maid. Now, that's rather a curious circumstance, is it not, Mr. Maunders?" "It is, rather," answered the landlord; "but it seems to me your mistress, Lady Eversleigh, is rather a strange person altogether. It's a strange thing for a mother to run away to foreign parts--if she has gone to foreign parts--and leave her only child behind her."