“But the day after my surprise visit (as I called it) I had picked a basketful of roses, and carried them into the pantry as a handy place to arrange them in.  I chose a china bowl and went to fill it at the tap.  Again the water would not run.

“I called Mrs. Carkeek.  ‘What is wrong with this tap?’ I asked.  ‘The rest of the house is well enough supplied.’

“‘I don’t know, miss.  I never use it.’

“’But there must be a reason; and you must find it a great nuisance washing up the plate and glasses in the kitchen.  Come around to the back with me, and we’ll have a look at the cisterns.’

“’The cisterns’ll be all right, miss.  I assure you I don’t find it a trouble.’

“But I was not to be put off.  The back of the house stood but ten feet from a wall which was really but a stone face built against the cliff cut away by the architect.  Above the cliff rose the kitchen garden, and from its lower path we looked over the wall’s parapet upon the cisterns.  There were two—­a very large one, supplying the kitchen and the bathroom above the kitchen; and a small one, obviously fed by the other, and as obviously leading, by a pipe which I could trace, to the pantry.  Now the big cistern stood almost full, and yet the small one, though on a lower level, was empty.

“‘It’s as plain as daylight,’ said I.  ’The pipe between the two is choked.’  And I clambered on to the parapet.

“’I wouldn’t, miss.  The pantry tap is only cold water, and no use to me.  From the kitchen boiler I gets it hot, you see.’

“‘But I want the pantry water for my flowers.’  I bent over and groped.  ‘I thought as much!’ said I, as I wrenched out a thick plug of cork and immediately the water began to flow.  I turned triumphantly on Mrs. Carkeek, who had grown suddenly red in the face.  Her eyes were fixed on the cork in my hand.  To keep it more firmly wedged in its place somebody had wrapped it round with a rag of calico print; and, discoloured though the rag was, I seemed to recall the pattern (a lilac sprig).  Then, as our eyes met, it occurred to me that only two mornings before Mrs. Carkeek had worn a print gown of that same sprigged pattern.

“I had the presence of mind to hide this very small discovery, sliding over it some quite trivial remark; and presently Mrs. Carkeek regained her composure.  But I own I felt disappointed in her.  It seemed such a paltry thing to be disingenuous over.  She had deliberately acted a fib before me; and why?  Merely because she preferred the kitchen to the pantry tap.  It was childish.  ‘But servants are all the same,’ I told myself.  ’I must take Mrs. Carkeek as she is; and, after all, she is a treasure.’

“On the second night after this, and between eleven and twelve o’clock, I was lying in bed and reading myself sleepy over a novel of Lord Lytton’s, when a small sound disturbed me.  I listened.  The sound was clearly that of water trickling; and I set it down to rain.  A shower (I told myself) had filled the water-pipes which drained the roof.  Somehow I could not fix the sound.  There was a water pipe against the wall just outside my window.  I rose and drew up the blind.