For the first time I found myself appraising the housekeeper and thinking what a

handsome woman she must once have been—indeed, as far as that goes, still was.

Her dark hair was unstreaked with gray, and when she had a color, as she had at

this minute, the stern quality of her looks was not so apparent.

 

Quite subconsciously I wondered whether she had been out, for she was breathing

hard, as though she had been running.

 

“I’m afraid I’m a few minutes early,” I said.

 

“Oh! I don’t think so. It’s gone half-past seven, Dr. Sheppard.” She paused a

minute before saying, “I—didn’t know you were expected to dinner to-night. Mr.

Ackroyd didn’t mention it.”

 

I received a vague impression that my dining there displeased her in some way,

but I couldn’t imagine why.

 

“How’s the knee?” I inquired.

 

“Much the same, thank you, doctor. I must be going now. Mrs. Ackroyd will be

down in a moment. I—I only came in here to see if the flowers were all right.”

 

She passed quickly out of the room. I strolled to the window, wondering at her

evident desire to justify her presence in the room. As I did so, I saw what, of