"You will be in the neighbourhood for some days, you tell us, Mr. Conroy. If you have nothing better to do on Tuesday than spend a few hours with a half-doited old man and a country lassie, try and find your way here again. Eh, now?" This, nothing loth, Conroy promised to do; the more so as Ella's needle was suspended in mid-air for a moment while she waited to hear his answer. Conroy's eyes met hers for an instant as she gave him her hand at parting, but she was on her guard this time, and nothing was to be read there. He had not gone many steps from the house when there was a rustle amidst the trees he was passing; and a young and well-dressed man, so far as Mr. Conroy could see, who had been apparently peering through an opening in the trees, walked quickly away. "He was watching the house," said Mr. Conroy to himself. "One of the spies, I suppose. What on earth is it that they want to find out?" Dull enough felt Ella after Conroy's departure. "I'll get a book," she said, shaking off her thoughts, which had turned on the man Conroy had seen behind the yew-tree: and she went to a distant room in search of one. Coming back with it, she saw the two housemaids, Martha and Ann, standing at the foot of the stairs which led up to the north wing. One of them held a candle, the other clung to her arm; both their faces were wearing an unmistakable look of terror. "What is the matter?" she asked, going towards them. "We've just heard something, Miss Ella," whispered Ann. "One of the bedroom-doors up there has just shut with a loud bang." "And it sounded like the door of _her_ room," spoke the other from her pale and frightened lips. "Miss Ella, I am _sure_ it was." "The door of whose room?" asked Miss Winter sharply, her own heart beating fast. "Of Katherine's," answered both the maids together. For a moment Ella could not command herself. "What business had you in this part of the house at all?" she questioned, after a pause. "Mrs. Stone sent us after her spectacles," explained Ann. "She left them in your sitting-room, ma'am, when she was up there seeing to the curtains this afternoon. She sent us, Miss Ella; she'd not go up herself at dark for the world." "Did she send both of you?" was the almost sarcastic question. "Ma'am, she knows neither one of us would dare to go alone." "You are a pair of silly, superstitious girls," rebuked Miss Winter. "What is there in the north wing to frighten you, more than in any other part of the house? I am surprised at you; at you, Ann, especially, knowing as I do how sensibly your mother brought you up." "I can't help the feeling, miss, though I do strive against it," said Ann, with a half sob. "I know it's wrong, but I can't help myself turning cold when I have to come into this part of the house after dark."