Hannah Grubbins had taken but a few paces down the subterranean hall at Wangooma Castle when a sudden theory struck forcibly on her mind. There were surely some retainers in the place to keep it in order, and to look after the lights in her master's absence. Some grizzle-bearded lackey might at any moment appear, and it would not go well with her if she were discovered. There was a door on her right--the one which Magnus Susman had locked on Mrs. Attwell not half an hour before--and she decided to see what was there before venturing into those ramifying corridors that appeared to shoot off from the far end. The key was again brought into requisition, and it fitted as before. It was one of those duplicate keys oft-times left in the possession of the fille de chambre in case of emergencies, and which was suited to all locks.
If Hannah was surprised at the brilliant grandeur of the hall, she was ten times more so on beholding the surpassing splendor of that drawing- room in which she found herself suddenly encompassed. She stared around her, feeding her wonder-stricken eyes on the evidences of her master's secret pomposity; and then, relocking the door from the inside, she scrutinised everything that was there, even to the few select books, the bits of floral embroidery, a Japanese fan thrown carelessly on a cushion of Indian silk, the escritoire, the thick carpets that made the step as the fall of a feather, and the ottomans and variegated mats. The voluminous folds of rich, creamy curtains, tastefully caught at the sides, and crowned at the lintel with a bow-knot of blue ribbon, excited her envy and convinced her that here below was someone, other than Magnus Susman, more skilful and refined than herself, to whose presiding care all this nattiness, softness of color, and delicacy of arrangement was due. She did not espy that presiding angel--for it was Mrs. Grant Attwell who tidied these rooms daily for the sake of having something to do--until she was in the middle of the boudoir, when she stopped with a cry of alarm. Mrs. Attwell had observed her for some time, and was much more pleased than otherwise at the intrusion.
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