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Updated: June 24, 2025
Dominey, having changed into travelling clothes, sent a messenger for Mrs. Unthank, who came to him presently in his study. He held out a chair to her, which she declined, however, to take. "Mrs. Unthank," he said, "I should like to know why you have been content to remain my wife's attendant for the last ten years?" Mrs. Unthank was startled by the suddenness of the attack.
I am convinced that at no time did Lady Dominey give the young man the slightest encouragement." "Has any one ever believed the contrary?" Dominey demanded. "Not a soul," was the emphatic reply. "Nevertheless, when you came down, fell in love with Miss Felbrigg and carried her off, every one felt that there would be trouble." "Roger Unthank was a lunatic," Dominey pronounced deliberately.
"The villagers are absolutely rabid about it. There are at least a dozen who declare that they have seen the ghost of Roger Unthank, and a score or more who will swear by all that is holy that they have heard his call at night." "Does he still select the park and the terrace outside the house for his midnight perambulations?" Dominey enquired. The lawyer hesitated.
I think that I should even have been able to stand those awful moments when he came back to me, covered with blood and reeling, if it had not been that I was already almost a wreck. You know, he killed Roger Unthank that night. That is why he was never able to come back." "Why do you talk of these things to-night, Rosamund," Dominey begged.
"Most weeks for the last ten years." "Haven't you ever got up and gone out to see what it was?" The old man shook his head. "But I knew right well what that was, sir," he said, "and I'm not one for looking on spirits. Spirits there are that walk this world, as we well know, and the spirit of Roger Unthank walks from between the Black Wood and those windows, come every week of the year.
Jackson Unthank, a man of wealth and taste, who was resolved on having such a collection of pictures at his house in Baltimore that no English private collection should in any way come near to it; and a Tuscan, from the Italian Foreign Office, to whom nobody could speak except Mr. Harris Hyde Granville Gore, who did not indeed seem to enjoy the efforts of conversation which were expected of him.
I'm afraid," he added, as they turned in through some iron gates and entered the last sweep in front of the house, "you won't find many familiar faces to welcome you. There's Loveybond, the gardener, whom you would scarcely remember, and Middleton, the head keeper, who has really been a godsend so far as the game is concerned. No one at all indoors, except Mrs. Unthank."
In her rusty black clothes, unrelieved by any trace of colour, her white cheeks and strange eyes, even in the morning light she was a repellent figure. Dominey strolled across to her. "You see, Mrs. Unthank," he began She interrupted him. Her skinny hand was stretched out towards the wood. "What are those men doing, Sir Everard Dominey?" she demanded. "What is your will with the wood?"
The body of Roger Unthank has never been found from that day to this." "If it had " "You must have been charged with either murder or manslaughter." Dominey abandoned his post at the window and raised his glass of sherry to his lips. The tragical side of these reminiscences seemed, so far as he was concerned, to have passed.
Very slowly a frown developed upon her forehead. The longer she looked, the less assured she became. "There are things in your face I miss," she muttered. Mr. Mangan was glad of an opportunity of asserting himself. "The fact is scarcely important, Mrs. Unthank," he said angrily.
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