Leslie was silent. Slowly the inner life of Fossaway Manor was beginning to reveal itself to her; she had seen nothing of these cross-currents, had not suspected, even dimly, the conflicting antagonism which must have been visible to Harry Chelford’s secretary. “They were very friendly sometimes. You’d think that Harry was fond of him, and I think he was,” Mary continued; “but the quarrels used to break out every now and then, once because Dick always stood with his back to the picture, and never looked at it at all. He hated it, I’m sure of that. Of course, he never took me into his confidence. We were not what you might term good friends. I suppose it was foolish of me to take up Harry’s quarrel, but I never liked Dick--you don’t mind me calling him Dick?--after that.” She glanced nervously through the window. The sun had set, and dusk was creeping over the great park. “If I get any sleep to-night I’ll be lucky,” she said. “Do you mind if I leave my door open and keep a light burning?” “Why, of course not,” smiled Leslie. “There is a lock on the door, and I asked Glover to find me the key,” Miss Wenner went on. “And I’ll tell you frankly, Leslie, that if he hadn’t found it I wouldn’t have stayed, not for all the money in the world.” Leslie felt that it would be indiscreet to offer encouragement to a further discussion of this subject, for she was as reluctant to spend the night under that roof as her new-found friend. XLIX Though she waited up till nearly eleven, she did not see Dick, and, in response to the repeated hints of the girl, they went upstairs together. The Manor was lighted by a power plant which was accommodated in a small shed midway between the house and the Ravensrill, and owed its installation to Dick’s enterprise. Harry had always had candles in his room, Mary told her, but had accepted the lighting of his library as a compromise. “It’s a very strange thing,” said Mary from her inner room, “but Harry was afraid of electricity. In thunderstorms he always went down into the cellar and stayed there until they were over. He used to have a bed which was made every day in the summer, in case of a storm coming on in the night, and----” At that moment all the lights in the room went out. “Have you turned the lights off?” asked Mary’s anxious voice. “No, I haven’t been near the switch; I expect a fuse has gone,” said the girl. There were matches and candles on the dressing table, she remembered, and, groping her way to the table, she lit the two candles. Mary was standing in the doorway, very pale and wide-eyed. “What was the meaning of that?” she asked, her voice sharp with fear, which was beginning to communicate itself to Leslie. She forced a smile. “That happens in the best regulated houses,” she said, with spurious gaiety. “The door is locked, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.” And then she heard footsteps in the corridor; there was a knock at the door that made Mary jump.