The room seemed in semi-darkness to Gerald, coming in from the brightness of the summer afternoon. The blind was drawn down to save the carpet, and the curtains hung heavily over the window for gentility’s sake. Miss Hewitt sat with her back to the light, by the side of the fireplace, which was filled up by cut paper. There was no air in the room; and though Colonel Piercey was not a man of humorous perceptions, there occurred even to him the idea of a large cat with her tail curled round her, sitting demure, yet fierce, on the watch for some prey, of which she had scent or sight. “My name is Piercey,” said the Colonel. “I am a relation of the family at Greyshott, who perhaps, you may have heard, are in great trouble at this moment. I have come to you, Miss Hewitt--and I hope you will pardon me for disturbing you--to know whether, by any chance, you could furnish us with Gervase Piercey’s address.” “Ah, you’re from the Pierceys,” said Miss Hewitt. “I thought as much--though there ain’t that friendship between me and the Pierceys that should make them send to me in their trouble. And what relation may you be, if a person might ask?” “I am a cousin; but that is of little importance. The chief thing is that Mr. Gervase Piercey is absent, and his address is not known. His mother is ill----” “I heard of that,” said the old lady, drawing a long breath as of satisfaction. “She’s a hard one, too, she is. It would be something sharp that made her ill. I suppose as she heard----” “She heard nothing. There was no mental cause for her illness, if that is what you mean. She had been sitting, talking just as usual----” “Oh--h!” cried Miss Hewitt, with an air of disappointment; “then it wasn’t from the shock? And what’s their meaning, then, Mister Piercey--if you call yourself Piercey--in sending to me?” “That is precisely what I can’t tell you,” said Gerald, with much candour. “I confess that it seems absurd, but I supposed, perhaps, that you would know.” “And why should it seem absurd? I know a deal more about the Pierceys than you think for, or any fine gentleman that comes questioning of me, as if I were an old hag in the village. Oh! I know the way that you, as calls yourselves gentlemen, speak!” “I hope,” said Gerald, surprised, “that I don’t speak in any unbecoming way, or fail in respect to any woman. It is very likely that you know much more than I do, and the question is one that is easily settled. Could you throw any light upon the question where Gervase Piercey is, and if so, will you tell me his address?” She looked at him for a moment as if uncertain how to respond--whether to play with the victim any longer, or to make a pounce and end it. Then she said, quickly, “Did he send you himself?” “Did who send me?” “Giles--Sir Giles; don’t you understand? Was it him as thought of Patience Hewitt? That’s what I want to know.” “Miss Hewitt, Lady Piercey is very ill----”