The passage was in darkness, but a light was dimly burning at the foot of the stairs. Arthur was sitting up, then. She wondered what would happen when Oliver returned, if there would be high words between the two men, if Oliver would manage to vindicate himself, or carry the situation with a high hand as on the previous occasion which she had witnessed. Then Oliver’s warning came back upon her, his urgent words, his barely disguised agitation. He had been very much in earnest when he had counselled her to dismiss Rotherby. What did it all mean, she wondered? Perhaps Rotherby himself might be able to throw light upon the mystery. She crept to the head of the stairs and paused. As she did so, she heard the soft opening of a door a few yards behind her, and a chink of light gleamed along the passage. It was impossible to return to her room unobserved, but she was dressed in grey and the shawl she wore was a dark one. She knew herself to be invisible against the wall in the gloom, and she stood up against it and waited. In a second or two a white-clad figure stole out, came bare-footed almost as far as her hiding-place, but stopped just short of it and hung over the banisters to listen. Frances stood rigid, not daring to breathe. In a moment there came a faint sob from the bending figure so close to her, and a sharp dart of compassion went through Frances. She was actually on the verge of betraying herself when there came another sound from along the passage, the creak of footsteps, a piercing whisper—Elsie’s:—“Maggie, what are you doing there? Maggie, come back to bed! We’ll never wake in time to get the cows milked if you don’t.” Another figure came sturdily into view with the words, and Maggie turned sharply back to meet it. “Oh, Elsie, I thought you were asleep!” she said. “I was,” said Elsie. “And then I found you weren’t there. For goodness’ sake, be sensible and come to bed! What is the good of hanging about out here?” “I’m worried about Oliver,” Maggie said rather piteously. “Will there be a row, do you think?” “Good gracious, I don’t know,” said Elsie. “Don’t care either. Oliver’s quite capable of taking care of himself. If he isn’t—well, I’ve no use for him. Come along to bed, do, and don’t make a fuss about nothing!” “Arthur was in a bad mood this evening,” protested Maggie. “I expect that’s why Oliver went without asking. He knew it wouldn’t be any good. Oh, I wish he hadn’t done it. I’m so afraid——” She left the sentence unfinished, for suddenly there sounded a movement from below, followed by the tread of a man’s feet on the stairs. “Come on!” said Elsie, and the two girls fled back to their room. The impulse to follow their example seized upon Frances, but in a moment she restrained it. The chances were very much against his seeing her, and she had fled from him once that day. Pride came to the aid of her courage, and she remained where she was.