“The pore leddy,” said Hannah, sympathetically; “she can’t sleep at all, at all. The nurse tells me she lies awake nearly all night and only gets forty winks in the morning after sun-up.” “Well, she was a bit upset at my coming in,” said Martha. “I wouldn’t ’a’ gone, only I thought it was my duty.” “Oh, you and your duty!” growled the cook. “I’m thinkin’ your duty is to keep quiet and let me get a bit of sleep myself. I can’t do without it as you and the missus can!” Hannah grunted as she turned over and promptly went to sleep again, while Martha, who was both imaginative and curious of mind, lay awake, wondering what fearful things had happened or would happen to this strange house. The girl was of a fearless nature, but deeply interested in the mysterious, and had more than once made investigations herself in an effort to find some secret passage such as the family were continually discussing. But she had found nothing, and now, still unable to sleep, she occupied her mind in trying to form some new theory of the tragedies of Headland House. Hannah awakened in the morning by reason of the alarm sounding from her bedroom clock. “My goodness,” she growled, to herself, “seems like I’d only just dropped to sleep. Well,—I’ve got to get up. Hey, Martha, come along, my girl.” But no response came from the other bed, and Hannah stepped across the room to give the girl an arousing shake. “Why, heaven bless us, she ain’t here!” exclaimed the startled cook. “Now, don’t that beat all! Not content with rampoosin’ round the house in the night, she must be up and off early in the mornin’! She thinks she’s able to help them as has the detective work in charge! That Martha!” Hannah proceeded to make her toilet and then descended the back stairs to the kitchen. But on reaching the kitchen she gave voice to such a scream as could be heard by all the servants in the house, and even penetrated to the rooms occupied by Minna and her nurse. “Whatever is the matter?” cried Fletcher, running out to the hall in her night clothes. “Matter enough,” Hannah called back. “Will you get Mr Granniss, and tell him to come quick!” Stunned by the cook’s voice and manner, the nurse hurriedly knocked at Rodney’s door, and he responded at once. He was partly dressed, and finishing a hasty toilet, he ran down stairs. He found Hannah, and Kelly, the butler, gazing at a huddled heap on the kitchen floor, which he saw at once, was the dead body of Martha, the waitress. “What does it mean?” he asked, in an awed voice. “Who did it?” “Who, indeed, sir?” Hannah said, whimpering like a child. “Oh, Mr Granniss, sir, do get Mrs Varian to go away from this accursed house! Nobody is safe here! I’m leaving as soon’s I can pack up. Kelly, here, is going, too,—and I hope the missus will go this very day. It’s curst indeed, is this place! Oh, Martha, me little girl,—who could ’a’ done this to ye?”