Raymond Heritage had passed from the despairing mood of her first interview with Anthony. Then to know him alive and to feel him unforgiving had stabbed her to the quick. But that phase had passed. During the many hours that she had spent alone the one amazing radiant thought that he was alive had come to dominate everything. The cold finality of death had been lifted. Instead of a blank wall, there opened before her an infinite number of ways, any one of which might lead her back to her lost happiness. She began to live in the past, to go over the old times, to make a dream her companion. She came into the study with Ember and waited to hear what he wanted, giving him just that surface attention which he recognised and resented. His first words were meant to startle her. “Lady Heritage,” he said, “you know, of course, that there are certain passages and rooms under this house?” She did start a little, he thought. Certainly her attention deepened. “Who told you that, Jeffrey?” she said, and hardly heard her own voice because Anthony’s rang in her ears insisting, “I _know_ that you told Ember.” “Mr. Luttrell told me,” said Ember. She exclaimed incredulously. At least her thoughts were not wandering now. Ember felt a certain triumph as he realised it. He went on speaking quite quietly: “It was when Sir William and I were down here the year before Mr. Luttrell died. He, Mr. Luttrell, was taken very ill and I sat up with him. In the night he was delirious. It was obvious that he had something on his mind. He began to talk about the passages and to say that the secret must not be lost. He took me for his nephew Henry March, and nothing would serve him but he must show me the entrance in the hall. He got out of bed, and was so much excited that I thought it best to give way. When he had shown me the spring he calmed down and went quietly back to bed. In the morning he had forgotten all about it.” Raymond listened, frowning. “Why do you tell me this?” she said. “I knew Mr. Luttrell had told Henry.” “Henry March knows?” said Ember. “Yes, I think so. Yes, I’m sure he does. Why, Jeffrey?” Ember was too busy with his thoughts to speak for a moment. What an appalling risk they had run. If Henry March knew of the passages, then they had been on the very brink of the abyss all along. He spoke at last, very seriously: “I want you to come down with me into the passages if you will. There’s something I want to show you—something which I think you ought to know.” “Something wrong?” “I think you ought to see for yourself. I’d rather not say any more if you don’t mind. I’ll show you what I mean. I really think you ought to come and see for yourself. This is a good time, as the servants are safely out of the way and Miss Molloy seems to have taken herself off.” “Very well, I’ll come. I must get a cloak though, or I shall get into such a mess. Those passages simply cover one with slime.” Ember stood still with his hand on the half-opened door.