“All morning Sir Gilbert was shut up in his study as usual,” began Trant. “At luncheon his appetite was very poor, but he seemed tolerably cheerful. At six o’clock, after I had taken him a glass of Madeira and a biscuit, he went into the hall, put on his soft hat, lighted a cigar and went for a stroll on the terrace, and about half-an-hour later, happening to look through the dining-room window, I saw him going slowly down the steps towards the lower grounds. By this the evening was getting quite dusky. It might have been a quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes later, when I heard the library bell rung sharply. I hurried in and found Sir Gilbert lying back in his easy-chair, looking quite dazed like—in fact, for half a minute or more he stared at me as if he didn’t know who I was. ‘You rang, sir,’ says I. ‘Eh?’ says he. ‘Did I ring, Trant? I don’t remember ringing. And I don’t remember how I got here. How did I get here, Trant?’ shutting his eyes and pressing his hand to his forehead as if trying to bring back something he had forgotten. ‘Don’t know at all, sir,’ says I. ‘The bell rang and I answered it.’ ‘It’s very strange, and I can’t make it out at all,’ says he. ‘Be good enough to shut that window, and then bring me a little brandy in a liqueur glass; and, Trant, let me know when the ladies get back from their excursion.’” Lady Pell had listened with growing impatience to the butler’s somewhat long-winded narrative. “Thank you, Trant; I am much obliged to you for telling me this,” she said. “You need not trouble to inform Sir Gilbert that I have returned. I will go to him at once. By-the-way, did you hint anything to Sir Gilbert about sending for a doctor?” “It would have been as much as my place is worth,” replied the butler with a solemn shake of the head. “And I shall be much obliged by your ladyship not saying anything about my having spoken to you.” A fire had been lighted in the library, for the autumn evenings were chilly, and Lady Pell found Sir Gilbert seated by it and looking much as usual. There was a small table, with a lamp on it, near his elbow, and the _Times_ newspaper was spread open on his knees. “So you have got back safe and sound,” he said in his most cheerful tones as she went forward. “Well, you have had a charming day and I hope you have enjoyed yourselves.” “Oh, most thoroughly. Didn’t you find the house a little lonely without us?” “Indeed I did—both lonely and dull. Dinner, I may tell you, is ordered for an hour later than usual; I felt sure you would come back famished after your long drive.” “And so we have; but you are not yet dressed.” “No—the fact is, I must ask you to excuse me at table to-day, I am slightly out of sorts and don’t feel in the mood for company. Perhaps, later on, I may be inclined for a little music. Meanwhile, Trant will not fail to look after me. And now I won’t detain you a moment longer.” “Well, I shall come and look you up again as soon as dinner is over.”