"She woke me, too," cried Lydia, who was trembling visibly, and looked of a sallow grey. "Mr Girtle, will you come down?" It was the butler's voice, and Paul Capel ran quickly down the stairs to the drawing-room floor, where the old butler, ghastly pale, with his hair sticking to his forehead, had lit half-a-dozen candles and stood them, some on a table, some on the pedestal of the great bronze group outside Colonel Capel's door. "What is it? Speak, man!" cried Capel. "The ladies! Don't let the ladies come!" It was too late; they were already there; and the women-servants were dimly seen in the gloom at the foot of the stairs. "But what is wrong?" cried Capel. "I--I--" The butler passed his hand over his humid face, and looked piteously from one to the other. "Preenham! Speak, man! At once!" said Mr Girtle, sternly. "I woke at half-past seven, sir," he said, in a trembling voice, "and wondered that I had not been called at seven. Mr Ramo, sir, always rose very early, and called me and Charles; but I was not surprised, for since master's death, he has slept outside his door, I think--I'm almost sure, though I never said anything to--" "Man, you are torturing us!" cried Capel. "Give him time," said Artis, who looked nervous and strange. "Yes, let him speak," said Katrine. "Go on, Mr Preenham, and tell us." "Thank you ma'am, I will," said the butler; "but--but would you ladies go back to your room or the drawing-room, I've something--something--" "I'm not a child," said Katrine. "Lydia, dear, you had better go." "I will stay with you," said Lydia, laying her hand upon Katrine's arm; and after a helpless look round, and a motion of his hands, as if he washed them of any trouble that might come, the old butler went on. "I didn't take much notice, as we were late last night, but as soon as I was dressed, I knocked at Charles' door--he sleeps in a turn-up bedstead in the servants' hall." The old man directed this piece of information to those around him, and then went on. "There was no answer, so I went in, and Charles was not there." "Not there?" said Mr Girtle, quickly. "No, sir. The bed had not been slept in. His livery was on the chair by it, and his cupboard was open where he keeps his private clothes." "This is strange," said Mr Girtle. "Go on." "Yes, sir. I thought perhaps he had let himself out through the area gate, sir. He has done such things before, and at a time like this I must speak plain." "Yes. Let me have the truth. Go on." "I was very angry, sir, and I meant to tell you, for it seemed disgraceful at such a time." "Go on." "I will, sir," faltered the butler, "but you must not flurry me. I have had a shock." "Let him go on his own way, Mr Capel," said the old lawyer. Preenham gave him a grateful look and continued: "I thought I'd go and speak to Mr Ramo, and then I met Cook and Anne." "We were on the mat, Mr Preenham," said a husky voice from below.