meanwhile, alice lynn, with a pale face and watchful eyes, ran down the gallery that opened into lady clancarty’s private apartments; she locked the door at the upper end and thrust the key into her pocket; she ran back to the only other entrance, the door upon the staircase, and there she seated herself upon the upper step, a devoted sentinel, though her heart beat almost to suffocation. if clancarty were discovered here—here in his wife’s rooms! alice shook from head to foot; some awful intuition warned her that peril was at hand.

the gallery was long and dim; two tall tapers in the sconces upon the landing cast a soft radiance in a little space, but left deep shadows. the great house was strangely still. alice sat and listened to the beating of her own heart which seemed louder than the faint sound of voices behind the closed door at her[pg 222] back. so great was her love for lady betty that, like catharine douglas, she would have thrust her arm into the staples and held the door against a host, but for all that she was frightened. presently she started and looked down the stairs. she had heard a soft tread below—yes, she was not mistaken; a woman was coming up, the one woman whom she had thought safely out of the house that night, the one she trusted least, melissa thurle. at the moment alice hated her, and set her teeth and waited, but she trembled, too. as for melissa, she came up softly, a quiet smile on her smooth face, serenity in her shifting eyes; soft, stealthy, feline in every movement. she pretended to be startled when she stumbled upon alice, who barred the stairs. melissa pressed her hand to her heart.

“why, how you frightened me!” she cried; “what is it, alice?”

“nothing,” retorted alice, who was little skilled in subterfuge and only stubbornly determined; “i thought you were gone to your aunt’s.”

“i started,” replied melissa sweetly, “but ’twas too cold. i came back, and i have a message for lady betty from lord sunderland.”

[pg 223]“she has a headache,” said alice; “you can leave the message with me; no one is to disturb her ladyship to-night unless she calls me.”

“dear, dear!” exclaimed melissa, undisturbed, however; “this is unusual—but, unhappily, i must see my lady; lord sunderland’s orders are explicit. i dare not disobey.”

“i do!” declared alice stubbornly, though she quaked, for she heard voices again and she knew, by melissa’s face, that she heard them, too, for a gleam passed over it, swift as the drawing of a knife.

“you are of no consequence,” said the woman firmly; “i will see her,” and she made a sudden spring to set the girl aside.

but alice was strong, if she was not diplomatic, and she caught her firmly by the waist.

“you shall not see her!” she cried, her face blazing with honest anger, “you shall not worry her. i am stronger than you, and you will never get past me—never!” and she swung melissa bodily back to the lower step.

at the moment, while the two eyed each other furiously, both heard a man’s voice behind the closed door of lady clancarty’s room. alice turned white, and melissa laughed.

[pg 224]she said not a word more. she laughed and shrugged her shoulders, and alice’s face burned with shame and anger. “the hateful wretch, the insulting, crawling creature,” the girl thought; yet she was relieved to see her turn and walk quietly away. at the landing, however, she stopped and laughed.

“i beg your pardon,” she said sweetly, “i’ll not interrupt you again, miss prude.”

and she went on, while alice burned to run after her and box her ears. but she kept her post, not daring to leave the door unguarded, and after awhile, she called to lady betty and warned her, but in vain; the lovers could not part so soon. clancarty lingered—lingered while the precious minutes flew and fate travelled nearer and yet nearer.

once out of alice’s sight, melissa crept, with her soft, catlike tread, along the lower gallery, felt her way down a narrow stair, the same by which clancarty had ascended, and looking over her shoulder occasionally to see if the girl followed her, she opened another door noiselessly, crept on down a long room and through a hall. about her was every sign of luxury and magnificence, rich soft rugs upon the floors, long mirrors, beautiful statuary, rare bric-a-brac from the india houses, every[pg 225] evidence of culture and extravagance, and she crept like a panther ready to spring. her face was like a white patch in the dusk of the candle-light, her green eyes shone, too, like a cat’s. on, on she crept, stealthy, determined, venomous; a dangerous creature bent on a miserable errand. again, looking back for alice, another flight of stairs, and then a pause before a pair of closed folding-doors. she drew her breath and pressed her hand to her heart. it took courage, but she had it, of an evil sort, the courage that crawls in secret places and strikes a man behind the back. she opened the door gently and stood in a sudden flood of light, looking at lord spencer.

he sat by a great candelabrum, reading some pages of manuscript, and he did not hear her. but having come so far, she would not be balked; she glided nearer and began to purr at him. the sound was scarcely human, but he looked up quickly and bent his eyes sternly upon her. he was so cold a man, so pompous and important, that even this creeping creature recoiled a little. but it was too late now; his very glance was a command.

“i beg pardon, my lord,” she murmured, soft as oil, “but my love for the family—my duty drove me here!”

[pg 226]“what for?” he demanded coolly, viewing her from head to foot.

she was a little frightened.

“my lord,” after all she blurted it out under those eyes of his, “there’s a man in your sister’s rooms!”

he sprang from his chair with clenched hands.

“you damned lying cat, you!” he exclaimed, between his teeth.

melissa fell on her knees.

“oh, my lord,” she whined, “i did not mean that! ’tis her husband—’tis lord clancarty himself!”

it was as though a white mask had fallen on his face, his figure was rigid, his eyes glittered; rage was almost choking him.

“how do you know, woman?” he asked fiercely.

“i know him, sir, he has been haunting her,” hurried on melissa, “at althorpe, at newmarket, and now here. ’twas he who fought the duel in the meadow. they have tried to hide it from me but they could not. he is in her room now.”

spencer glared at her, his hands twitching; when he spoke it was hoarsely.

“how came he there? how came he in this house?” he demanded.

[pg 227]“alice lynn admitted him,” said melissa, glibly enough now, her eyes narrow and pale; “and she is trying to guard the doors. you may see her for yourself, my lord,” and she fastened her eager gaze upon him.

she thought to see him take his sword and go in search of his enemy; she had whetted her appetite for revenge for her mistress’ scorn of her with the thought of a duel in lady clancarty’s rooms, and of clancarty in blood at his wife’s feet, or driven out into the night—whipped! ah, how she licked her lips at the thought; that would be the very acme of triumph, and the young countess had treated her with such contempt.

but lord spencer disappointed her.

“send hither giles,” he said sharply, and as she went out, reluctant to close the scene, she saw him pick up his hat and cloak.

wild with eagerness and curiosity, she hung about the door; she heard some orders to giles, the confidential servant, and she saw spencer go out alone, and gasped in surprise and disappointment. was he afraid?

and giles looked askance at her as he passed.

“where did he go?” she whispered eagerly.

“to the devil,” said the man sullenly, “you’re a pretty bird, you are,” and he measured[pg 228] her with rough scorn, even while he sat down by the main door with his pistol on his knee.

melissa wetted her lips, creeping along by the wall opposite, watchful and feline.

“are you to catch him here?” she demanded, meaning lord clancarty.

the man stared at her again.

“yes,” he replied, “i’m told to shoot him, but steer clear, my girl, people don’t always hit the mark,” and he grinned.

“i shall tell lord spencer!” she hissed at him.

“do! ’tis your business,” retorted the man, “and ’twill hang you sometime, my lady-bird!”