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Updated: June 24, 2025
"In a very few moments," he told her. "I have been waiting to see you for an hour." She made a grimace. "It was Mrs. Unthank. I think that she hid my things on purpose. I was so anxious to see you." "I want to talk to you about Mrs. Unthank," he said. "Should you be very unhappy if I sent her away and found some one younger and kinder to be your companion?"
"Is it of any use sending for specialists?" "Just for the present, none at all." "And what about that horrible woman, Mrs. Unthank?" "Part of your task, if you are really going to take it up. She stands between your wife and the sun." "Then why have you suffered her to remain there all those years?" Dominey demanded.
"Whatever her faults may be, I believe she is devoted to Lady Dominey." "She may be devoted to your wife," the lawyer admitted, "but I am convinced that she is your enemy. The situation doesn't seem to me to be consistent. Mrs. Unthank is firmly convinced that, whether in fair fight or not, you killed her son.
She speaks of the ghost of Roger Unthank, of the cries in the night, of his mysterious death, as parts of a painful past. She is quite conscious of her several attempts upon your life and bitterly regrets them. Now we come to the real danger. She appears to be possessed of a passionate devotion towards you, whilst still believing that you are not her husband."
"Don't let her persuade you to stop. Let them cut and burn and hew till there isn't room for a mouse to hide. You promise?" "I promise," he answered. Mrs. Unthank was making every effort to keep under control her fierce discomposure. She rose as Dominey entered the room and dropped an old-fashioned curtsey. "Well, Mrs. Unthank," he enquired, "what can I do for you?"
Then one of them paused and pointed across the park. Moving with incredible swiftness came the gaunt, black figure of Rachael Unthank, swaying sometimes on her feet, yet in their midst before they could realise it. She staggered to the prostrate body and threw herself upon her knees. Her hands rested upon the unseen face, her eyes glared across at Dominey. "So you've got him at last!" she gasped.
Some sort of evil seemed to have lit in her face. Her lips had shrunk apart, showing her yellow teeth. The fire in her narrowed eyes was the fire of hatred. "I am no murderer, Mrs. Unthank," he said. "Your son stole out from the shadow of that wood, attacked me in a cowardly manner, and we fought.
"Sometimes it comes to a man that he must slay or be slain. It was Roger Unthank " "I shall not talk about him any longer," she decided quite calmly. "The night before last, his spirit was calling to me below my window. He wants me to go down into Hell and live with him. The very thought is horrible." "Come," Dominey said, "we shall speak of other things.
Unthank entered, severer, more unattractive than ever in the hard morning light. She came to the end of the table, facing the place where Dominey was seated. "Good morning, Mrs. Unthank," he said. She ignored the greeting. "I am the bearer of a message," she announced. "Pray deliver it," Dominey replied. "Her ladyship would be glad for you to visit her in her apartment at once."
"Will you dare to tell me why I should not, Mrs. Unthank?" She relapsed into silence, and Dominey passed on. But that night, as Rosamund and he were lingering over their dessert, enjoying the strange quiet and the wonderful breeze which crept in at the open window, Parkins announced a visitor. "Mrs. Unthank is in the library, sir," he announced.
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