Chapter III. The Night Of The Tragedy

           Tomakethispartofmystoryclear,IappendthefollowingplanofthefirstfloorofStyles.Theservants’roomsarereachedthroughthedoorB.Theyhavenocommunicationwiththerightwing,wheretheInglethorps’roomsweresituated.

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           ItseemedtobethemiddleofthenightwhenIwasawakenedbyLawrenceCavendish.Hehadacandleinhishand,andtheagitationofhisfacetoldmeatoncethatsomethingwasseriouslywrong.

           “What’sthematter?”Iasked,sittingupinbed,andtryingtocollectmyscatteredthoughts.

           “Weareafraidmymotherisveryill.Sheseemstobehavingsomekindoffit.Unfortunatelyshehaslockedherselfin.”

           “I’llcomeatonce.”

           Isprangoutofbed;and,pullingonadressing-gown,followedLawrencealongthepassageandthegallerytotherightwingofthehouse.

           JohnCavendishjoinedus,andoneortwooftheservantswerestandingroundinastateofawe-strickenexcitement.Lawrenceturnedtohisbrother.

           “Whatdoyouthinkwehadbetterdo?”

           Never,Ithought,hadhisindecisionofcharacterbeenmoreapparent.

           JohnrattledthehandleofMrs.Inglethorp’sdoorviolently,butwithnoeffect.Itwasobviouslylockedorboltedontheinside.Thewholehouseholdwasarousedbynow.Themostalarmingsoundswereaudiblefromtheinterioroftheroom.Clearlysomethingmustbedone.

           “TrygoingthroughMr.Inglethorp’sroom,sir,”criedDorcas.“Oh,thepoormistress!”

           SuddenlyIrealizedthatAlfredInglethorpwasnotwithus—thathealonehadgivennosignofhispresence.