"I understand, of course, but I dinna see, Miss Isla, how it is possible for ye to live long like this. Some o’ your folk will come seekin’ ye--that’s a sure thing. If Mr. Malcolm believes that ye have gane to Lady Mackinnon he will soon be hearin’ frae them that you are not there. It’s a dreadfu’ business a’thegither, and I hate the idea of where ye are now. It doesn’t sound richt at a’. Leave it the morn, Miss Isla, and come back here." "No, no. I am very comfortable. I am well paid, and I am interested in what’s going on in the house. I had no idea that there were such exciting incidents in real life. I feel really as if I were a sort of Sherlock Holmes, and I don’t worry half as much as I used to do about my own affairs." Isla spoke as she felt at the moment, but the time came when she realized that there had been more truth and foresight in Agnes Fraser’s point of view than she had admitted. After four days’ close observation in the household of Mrs. Bodley-Chard she arrived at an absolute conviction as to what was actually happening. Mrs. Chard was being kept continuously under the influence of drugs that were gradually destroying her will-power and leaving her ever weaker and weaker and more utterly in the hands of her unscrupulous husband. That he was unscrupulous Isla had not had the smallest doubt from the moment she entered the house. Also, she had satisfied herself that the French maid carried out all his instructions regarding her mistress, and, as she was in close attendance on her, while Isla was only an occasional visitor to her room, she had everything in her power. Finding that Isla kept him at arm’s length and that she had not the smallest intention of being friendly with him, Mr. Bodley-Chard abandoned all his efforts to attract her and treated her in a very off-hand manner. Without being positively rude, his manner was most offensive. Isla, however, entrenched herself behind her natural reserve and did not mind. One day she made so bold as to put a very straight question to Mr. Chard. "Mrs. Chard is very unwell to-day," she said quietly and politely. "She is quite unable to give her mind to any of her ordinary affairs." "There is no occasion for her to give her mind to anything. People are paid to do the work of the house," he said pointedly. "That is not what I mean. Her mind seems to wander. May I call in a doctor? It distresses me to see her like that." A cold, almost baleful light came into his eyes, and his mouth, under the carefully-trimmed moustache, became very ugly. "You are my wife’s housekeeper--not her nurse." "Pardon. I was engaged as a housekeeper-companion," said Isla quite clearly. "And I can’t see her growing worse every day without being troubled about it. Hasn’t she any relations or friends who could come and take her in hand, then? It does not seem right to leave her so much in the hands of a flighty French maid."