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Updated: June 19, 2025
She was still luxuriating in a lavish play of figures when the parlor-maid, from the threshold, roused her with a dubiously worded inquiry as to the expediency of serving luncheon. It was one of their jokes that Trimmle announced luncheon as if she were divulging a state secret, and Mary, intent upon her papers, merely murmured an absent-minded assent.
"But the kitchen-maid saw him. Send her here," she commanded, wondering at her dullness in not thinking sooner of so simple a solution. Trimmle, at the behest, vanished in a flash, as if thankful to be out of the room, and when she reappeared, conducting the agitated underling, Mary had regained her self-possession, and had her questions pat. The gentleman was a stranger, yes that she understood.
"I couldn't exactly say the hour, Madam, because I didn't let the gentleman in," she replied, with the air of magnanimously ignoring the irregularity of her mistress's course. "You didn't let him in?" "No, Madam. When the bell rang I was dressing, and Agnes " "Go and ask Agnes, then," Mary interjected. Trimmle still wore her look of patient magnanimity.
"Agnes would not know, Madam, for she had unfortunately burnt her hand in trying the wick of the new lamp from town " Trimmle, as Mary was aware, had always been opposed to the new lamp "and so Mrs. Dockett sent the kitchen-maid instead." Mary looked again at the clock. "It's after two! Go and ask the kitchen-maid if Mr. Boyne left any word."
Her short-sighted eyes strained through them, half-discerning an actual presence, something aloof, that watched and knew; and in the recoil from that intangible propinquity she threw herself suddenly on the bell-rope and gave it a desperate pull. The long, quavering summons brought Trimmle in precipitately with a lamp, and Mary breathed again at this sobering reappearance of the usual.
"Weel, 'cep it was the oonnaiteral luik o' the thing no human, an' yet sae dooms like it I can not account for the grue or the trimmle 'at cam ower me, my lord, I never fan' onything like it i' my life afore. "Go in at once," said the marquis fiercely. Malcolm looked him full in the eyes. "Ye mean what ye say, my lord?"
Her short-sighted eyes strained through them, half-discerning an actual presence, something aloof, that watched and knew; and in the recoil from that intangible propinquity she threw herself suddenly on the bell-rope and gave it a desperate pull. The long, quavering summons brought Trimmle in precipitately with a lamp, and Mary breathed again at this sobering reappearance of the usual.
She had taken a foot-path across the downs, and as Boyne, meanwhile, had probably returned from the station by the highroad, there was little likelihood of their meeting on the way. She felt sure, however, of his having reached the house before her; so sure that, when she entered it herself, without even pausing to inquire of Trimmle, she made directly for the library.
It was a matter of principle with Trimmle never to answer more than one question at a time. "Up the drive? At this hour?" Mary went to the door herself, and glanced across the court through the long tunnel of bare limes. But its perspective was as empty as when she had scanned it on entering the house. "Did Mr. Boyne leave no message?" she asked.
"You may bring tea if Mr. Boyne is in," she said, to justify her ring. "Very well, Madam. But Mr. Boyne is not in," said Trimmle, putting down the lamp. "Not in? You mean he's come back and gone out again?" "No, Madam. He's never been back." The dread stirred again, and Mary knew that now it had her fast. "Not since he went out with the gentleman?" "Not since he went out with the gentleman."
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