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"
How
did
she
come
to
find
him
at
such
an
hour
?
It
was
late
in
the
night
,
I
suppose
?
"
"
I
do
n't
know
,
sir
;
I
did
n't
hear
nothing
at
all
of
the
details
.
"
As
he
could
tell
me
no
more
,
I
stopped
the
carriage
for
a
moment
to
let
him
get
out
on
the
box
;
then
I
turned
the
matter
over
in
my
mind
as
I
sat
alone
.
There
were
many
things
which
I
could
have
asked
the
servant
;
and
for
a
few
moments
after
he
had
gone
I
was
angry
with
myself
for
not
having
used
my
opportunity
.
On
second
thought
,
however
,
I
was
glad
the
temptation
was
gone
.
I
felt
that
it
would
be
more
delicate
to
learn
what
I
wanted
to
know
of
Miss
Trelawny
's
surroundings
from
herself
,
rather
than
from
her
servants
.
We
bowled
swiftly
along
Knightsbridge
,
the
small
noise
of
our
well-appointed
vehicle
sounding
hollowly
in
the
morning
air
.
We
turned
up
the
Kensington
Palace
Road
and
presently
stopped
opposite
a
great
house
on
the
left-hand
side
,
nearer
,
so
far
as
I
could
judge
,
the
Notting
Hill
than
the
Kensington
end
of
the
avenue
.
It
was
a
truly
fine
house
,
not
only
with
regard
to
size
but
to
architecture
.
Even
in
the
dim
grey
light
of
the
morning
,
which
tends
to
diminish
the
size
of
things
,
it
looked
big
.
Miss
Trelawny
met
me
in
the
hall
.
She
was
not
in
any
way
shy
.
She
seemed
to
rule
all
around
her
with
a
sort
of
high-bred
dominance
,
all
the
more
remarkable
as
she
was
greatly
agitated
and
as
pale
as
snow
.
In
the
great
hall
were
several
servants
,
the
men
standing
together
near
the
hall
door
,
and
the
women
clinging
together
in
the
further
corners
and
doorways
.
A
police
superintendent
had
been
talking
to
Miss
Trelawny
;
two
men
in
uniform
and
one
plain-clothes
man
stood
near
him
.
As
she
took
my
hand
impulsively
there
was
a
look
of
relief
in
her
eyes
,
and
she
gave
a
gentle
sigh
of
relief
.
Her
salutation
was
simple
.
"
I
knew
you
would
come
!
"
The
clasp
of
the
hand
can
mean
a
great
deal
,
even
when
it
is
not
intended
to
mean
anything
especially
.
Miss
Trelawny
's
hand
somehow
became
lost
in
my
own
.
It
was
not
that
it
was
a
small
hand
;
it
was
fine
and
flexible
,
with
long
delicate
fingers
--
a
rare
and
beautiful
hand
;
it
was
the
unconscious
self-surrender
.
And
though
at
the
moment
I
could
not
dwell
on
the
cause
of
the
thrill
which
swept
me
,
it
came
back
to
me
later
.
She
turned
and
said
to
the
police
superintendent
:
"
This
is
Mr.
Malcolm
Ross
.
"
The
police
officer
saluted
as
he
answered
:
