She did not even shiver when the front
door of the basement closed, and she heard the sonorous birring of the
motor, drowning the giddy voices of the servants, grow fainter and
fainter until it finally ceased altogether.
When the last echoes of the vehicle had died away in the distance,
Lady Adela made a tour of the premises. The housekeeper's room pleased
her immensely--at least she persuaded herself it did. "Why, it is
quite as nice as any of the rooms upstairs," she said aloud, as she
stood with her face to the failing sunbeams and rested her strong
white hand on the edge of the table. "Quite as nice. Karl and Max,
come here!"
But the boarhounds for once in their lives did not obey her with a
good grace. There was something in the room they did not like, and
they showed how strong was their resentment by slinking unwillingly
through the doorway.
"I wonder why that is?" Lady Adela mused; "I have never known them do
it before." Then her eyes wandered round the walls, and struggled in
vain to reach the remoter angles of the room, which had suddenly grown
dark. She tried to assure herself that this was but the natural effect
of the departing daylight, and that, had she watched in other houses
at this particular time, she would have noticed the same thing. To
show how little she minded the gloom, she went up to the darkest
corner and prodded the walls with her riding-whip. She laughed--there
was nothing there, nothing whatsoever to be afraid of, only shadows.
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