Madame Carter was on the terrace when they came back at five from an idle trip to the club, reporting that her son had just returned unexpectedly from the city, and had gone in to change for golf.

Nothing alarming here, yet Harriet experienced a sick thrill of apprehension.  Something abnormal seemed to be the matter with them all this afternoon!

“Did you call me, Mr. Carter?” She hardly knew her own voice, as he came down the three broad steps from the house.  Her hands felt cold, and she was trembling.

“Do you happen to know where Hansen is, Miss Field?”

“Driving Mrs. Carter to the Webbs’ at Great Barrington,” the girl answered, readily.  “Will young Burke do?  Mrs. Webb telephoned, and Mrs. Carter left in a hurry.  She did not expect you to-night.  Hansen ought to be back at about seven, I should think—­”

He was not listening to her; abruptly left her.  When Harriet went into the house she saw nothing of him.  But she knew he had not gone away for the usual golf, and was conscious still of that odd fluttering of mind and soul, that presage of ill.  She made her usual little round, spoke briefly to a maid about some fallen daisy petals, consulted with the housekeeper as to the new cretonne covers.  A man was to come and measure those covers this very afternoon—­perhaps this was he, modestly waiting at the side door.

But no, this man briefly and simply asked to be shown to Mr. Carter, remarking that he was expected.  He disappeared into the library; Harriet saw no more of him for an hour, when he silently appeared beside her, and asked to see the chauffeur Hansen as soon as he came.

Richard brought the strange man to the dinner table; but there was nothing in that to make the dinner so unnatural.  To be sure Richard ate little, and spoke hardly at all; but this Mr. Williams was quite entertaining, and the old lady in good spirits.  Nina, pleased at being downstairs, as she and Harriet usually were when her father and mother were not at home, or when there was no company, also contributed some shy remarks.  But Harriet was beset with sudden fits of nervousness, and oppressed by a heavy sense of impending disaster.  She said to herself that she wished heartily the weather would break and clear, she felt like “a witch.”

At eight Hansen was back, presenting himself in his dusty road-coat; Mr. Carter immediately drew him with Williams into the library.  Nina loitered up to bed, but the old lady and Harriet remained downstairs.  They did not like, but they sometimes amused, each other.  Suddenly came the summons:  would Miss Field please step into the library?

Hansen was going out as she came in; Richard was at the big flat-topped desk, the man Williams standing somewhat in shadow.  Harriet’s heart leaped; they were going to ask her about Royal.

“Just a moment, Miss Field,” Richard said.  “Will you sit down?” And as Harriet, looking at him in frightened curiosity, did so, he began quietly:  “We are in some trouble here, Miss Field.  I hardly know how to tell you what we fear.  Did you notice anything strange about—­Mrs. Carter’s—­manner to-day?”