Dora, really alarmed, rushing to her dressing-case, seizes upon a flask of eau-de-Cologne, and flings some of its contents freely over the fainting girl.  Florence, with a sigh, rouses herself, and sits upright.

“There is no time to lose,” she says confusedly.  “Oh, Dora!” Here she breaks down and bursts into tears.

“Try to compose yourself,” entreats Dora, seeing the girl has some important news to impart, but is so nervous and unstrung as to be almost incapable of speaking with any coherence.  But presently Florence grows calmer, and then, her voice becoming clear and full, she is able to unburden her heart.

“All this day I have been oppressed by a curious restlessness,” she says to Dora; “and, when you left me this afternoon, your vague promises of being able to elucidate the terrible secret that is weighing us down made me even more unsettled.  I did not go down to dinner—­”

“Neither did I,” puts in Mrs. Talbot sympathetically.

“I wandered up and down my room for at least two hours, thinking always, and waiting for the moment when you would return, according to promise, and tell me the success of your hidden enterprise.  You did not come, and at half past nine, unable to stay any longer in my own room with only my own thoughts for company, I opened my door, and, listening intently, found by the deep silence that reigned throughout the house that almost every one was gone, if not to bed, at least to their own rooms.”

“Lady FitzAlmont and Gertrude passed to their rooms about an hour ago,” says Dora.  “But some of the men, I think, are still in the smoking-room.”

“I did not think of them.  I stole from my room, and roamed idly through the halls.  Suddenly a great—­I can not help thinking now a supernaturally strong—­desire to go into the servants’ corridor took possession of me.  Without allowing myself an instant’s hesitation, I turned in its direction, and walked on until I reached it.”

She pauses here, and draws her breath rapidly.

“Go on,” entreats Dora impatiently.

“The lamp was burning very dimly.  The servants were all down-stairs—­at their supper, I suppose—­because there was no trace of them anywhere.  Not a sound could be heard.  The whole place looked melancholy and deserted, and filled me with a sense of awe I could not overcome.  Still it attracted me.  I lingered there, walking up and down until its very monotony wearied me; even then I was loath to leave it, and, turning into a small sitting-room, I stood staring idly around me.  At last, somewhere in the distance I heard a clock strike ten, and, turning, I decided on going back once more to my room.”

Again, emotion overcoming her, Florence pauses, and leans back in her chair.

“Well, but what is there in all this to terrify you so much?” demands her cousin, somewhat bewildered.

“Ah, give me time!  Now I am coming to it,” replies Florence quickly.  “You know the large screen that stands in the corridor just outside the sitting-room I have mentioned—­put there, I imagined to break the draught?  Well, I had come out of the room and was standing half-hidden by this screen, when I saw something that paralyzed me with fear.”