When she had left the room, Hannah put sugar and lemon and whiskey and hot water into the tumbler--but then she seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Folly!” she said to herself, “_che sarà, sarà!_ I _must_ be free!” She dashed a small quantity of white powder into the glass, as she thought thus, and a moment later Charlotte appeared with the tray. “Take that up to the Markiss,” she said; “and if he don’t answer you, say you’ve a message for him from the Baron, and when he opens the door tell him the Baron ordered me to send him up that the last thing. Do you understand?” “Yes! Mum--my lady!” “Now, don’t forget. Say first--‘Please, Markiss, the Baron has sent you a message’--and when he opens the door, hand him the tray and say, ‘The Baron begged as you would drink this,’ and leave it there.” “Yes! Mum--my lady!” repeated the child. The ruse succeeded. Ricardo at first refused to unlock his door, declaring he wanted nothing more that night, but when he heard that Von Steinberg had a message for him, he left his bed to hear what it was. When Charlotte, faithful to her orders, thrust the tray and tumbler into his hands, and repeated the message, Hannah heard him grumble, “What did you disturb me for such nonsense for? Here! put the tray down, and don’t you dare to come near me again to-night, or I’ll send you home to your mother. Do you understand?” “Yes! Markiss--yes! my lord!” stammered the child, as she scuttled down the stairs again, and ran into the kitchen. All was silent in the Professor’s room, and Hannah went back to her needlework. It was the time that she usually went to bed, but she did not feel as if she could sleep that night. At ten o’clock her little maid crept into the parlour, white and trembling. “Please, Mum--my lady----” she commenced, half crying, “there’s sich a rum noise going on upstairs--like a dog moaning. Please, do you think it can be the Markiss!” “The Markiss, child!” said Hannah, who had also suddenly gone unaccountably white, “why! what do you mean? Why should the Markiss make a noise? It’s most likely the wind you hear through the trees!” “O! no! Mum--my lady--please! there’s no wind to-night, and I’m afraid to go up to bed,” continued Charlotte, weeping. “What nonsense!” exclaimed her mistress, “I’ll go with you, then, but what you have to look so scared for, I can’t imagine!” In consequence, she mounted to the upper storey, with the shrinking little maid in front of her. Since Von Steinberg’s departure, Hannah had occupied the room which had been his, whilst her servant slept in that which had been hers. As they gained the head of the stairs, a deep, low groan issued distinctly from Ricardo’s apartment, and made Charlotte burst out afresh. “O! please, Mum, please, Mum--there it is again! O! I’m sure the pore Markiss must be very bad in his insides! Won’t you knock at the door and see?”