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Updated: May 3, 2025
The little house, strongly built though it was, seemed to quiver from its very foundations. I caught up my overcoat, and boldly descended the narrow staircase. Grooton stood at the bottom, holding a lamp in his hand. "You are quite safe to-night, sir," he said. "There'll be no one about in such a storm." I stood still for a moment.
"It is only morbid to brood over one particular example." "Father would never forgive me if he knew," she murmured, irrelevantly. "He hates us to do anything underhand." I heard Grooton return with a sigh of relief. "You will have some tea," I suggested. She shook her head and stood up. I did not press her. "No, I won't," she said. "I am sorry I came. I don't understand you, Mr. Ducaine.
I left his Grace to go to Lord Chelsford, who found me some work in London." "Secret service work, wasn't it, Grooton?" "Yes, sir." "Interesting?" "Some parts of it very interesting, sir." I nodded and drank my coffee. Grooton was watching me with an air of respectful interest. "You will pardon my remarking it, sir, but I hope you will try and get some sleep during the day.
Behind us we could hear the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching, soft quick footsteps, muffled and almost noiseless upon the spongy turf. We stood still. I wheeled round and peered into the darkness. Lady Angela's fingers clutched my arm. I could feel that she was trembling violently. It was Grooton whose figure loomed up almost immediately before us Grooton, bareheaded and breathless.
You are very pale this morning, sir." I looked at the glass, and was startled at my own reflection. This was only my third day, and the responsibilities of my work were heavy upon me. My cheeks were sunken and there were black rings around my eyes. "I will lie down when I come back, Grooton," I answered. Outside, the fresh morning wind came like a sudden sweet tonic to my jaded nerves.
"Grooton!" I called sharply. Grooton appeared. "Is any one at Braster Grange?" I asked. "Not that I have heard of, sir," he answered. "You do not know whether Mrs. Smith-Lessing is expected back?" "I have not heard, sir. They left no servants there not even a caretaker." I stepped back again into the night and took the shortest cut across the park to the house.
I watched him bending over the stove, pale, dark-visaged, with the subdued manners and voice which mark the aristocracy of servitude. My employer's confidence in him must be immense, for while he watched over me I was practically in his power. "Have you been long with the Duke, Grooton?" I asked him. "Twenty-one years, sir.
I'm dying for some fresh air." "I don't think it's hardly safe, sir," he protested, deprecatingly. "Not that there's any fear of your being seen: the wind's enough to carry you over the cliff." "I shall risk it, Grooton," I answered. "I think that the wind is going down, and there won't be a soul about. It's too good a chance to miss."
The raging and tearing of the sea below had momentarily triumphed over the north wind. "The trees in the spinney are snapping like twigs, sir," Grooton remarked. "There's one lying right across the path outside. But you'll excuse me, sir you're not going out!" "I think so, Grooton," I answered, "for a few minutes. Remember that I have been a prisoner here for three days.
Grooton served us with dinner, and he ate and drank with only a few curt remarks. But afterwards, when I was deep in my work, he suddenly addressed me. "Boy," he then said, "turn round and listen to me." I obeyed him at once. "Listen well," he said, "for I am not given to confidences. Yet I am going to speak to you of the secret places of my life."
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