“Yes,” after an instant’s hesitation.  “There is nothing else I can do.”

The Texan got noisily to his feet, and swaggered across the floor.

“If you all hav’ got through yer whisperin’,” he said roughly, “I reckon Sally ’s got ther grub laid out.”

I bit my lips to keep back a hot reply, feeling the restraint of her eyes, and we followed him into the next room.  The table was set for two, and I could distinguish the shadow of a woman standing motionless in the farther corner.  The dim light barely revealed her outlines.

“Yer kin talk it out yere,” announced Coombs, waving one hand, “cause I won’t be present, havin’ et already.  I reckon Sally won’t interfere none.”

He slammed the door viciously going out, causing the lamp to sputter.  Then the woman came silently forward, a coffeepot in her hand.  She was a mulatto perhaps sixty years of age, her face scarred by smallpox, and with strangely furtive eyes.  Somehow she fitted into the scene, and I saw my companion gazing at her almost with horror, as she flitted about us silently as a specter.  I endeavored to talk, while eating heartily, for I was hungry, but found it difficult to arouse Mrs. Bernard to any response, and she merely toyed with her food.  In despair I turned to the other, hopeful that a question or two might dissolve the spell.

“You are the housekeeper, I believe?”

She favored me with a single glance of surprise.

“Yes.”

“Have you been here some time?”

“No.”

“You probably knew the old Judge?”

“No.”

Her monosyllabic answers were perfectly colorless, and, with this last, she picked up an empty dish, and vanished.  I endeavored to laugh, but there was no response in the eyes of the woman opposite.  She dropped her fork, and pushed back her chair.

“Oh, I simply cannot stand this place!” she exclaimed.  “There is something perfectly horrid about it, and—­and the people.  How shall I ever get through the night?”

“That is nothing,” I soothed, although hardly at ease myself.  “She is evidently of the taciturn sort.  We don’t need to keep these servants, you know.  I ’ll hunt up some more cheerful in town tomorrow.  Why, by Jove, it’s ten o’clock already.  Have you finished?”

“I could n’t choke down another mouthful.”

“Well, don’t be afraid.  They mean well enough, no doubt.  Sallie!”

She came gliding in, her back to the door.

“Are you the one who is to show us to our rooms?”

“Yes.”

She picked up the lamp and went out, and Mrs. Bernard followed instantly, evidently afraid to be left in the dark.  I followed with the grips, trailing up the stairs, having seen nothing of Coombs in the front room.  In the upper hall our guide threw open two doors, going into the rooms and lighting lamps, thus giving glimpses of the interiors.  The one in the corner was the larger, and better furnished.