She started nervously when the butler knocked at the door.
"Mr. Drare's housekeeper, ma'am. She'd like to see you, ma'am. I said I'd ask."
She walked over to the farther corner of the room and switched on the lights.
A middle-aged woman very plainly dressed was in the doorway.
"Miss Genevieve. I wouldn't have come; only I've got to tell you."
"What, Nannie? Come and sit down, Nannie."
The woman came into the room. For a second she paused, and then hurriedly she closed the door behind her.
"No, Miss Genevieve. I'll not sit down. Thank you. I can't be staying long. He might want me. I wouldn't like him to know I was here."
The muscles on either side of Genevieve Evans' mouth pulled and twitched.
"That I am, Miss. And that I've got good reason to be; the same as you, my poor Miss Genevieve."
"Yes, yes, Nannie. What was it you wanted?"
"I don't rightly know how to tell it to you, Miss. It's hard to find the words to say it in. He'd kill me if he knew I come here and told you. But you got to know. I can't keep it to myself. He's been fierce of late. What with making so much more money. And the drinking, Miss. And the women. The women, they're there all hours, now."
"My mother's house!" Genevieve Evans said it uncertainly.
"Yes, Miss," the woman went on. "And it was almost as bad when she lived."
"But last night, Miss; after they'd gone. I was asleep, Miss Genevieve. It woke me. It was awful. Plain horrid, Miss."
"No,--no, Nannie!" Genevieve Evans interrupted wildly. "Don't say it! Don't!"
"Why, Miss Genevieve--Poor, little lamb."
"Nannie, Nannie." She made a tremendous effort to control herself. "What was it you were going to say?"
"The scream, Miss. In the night. I rushed down. I knocked at his door. He wouldn't let me in. He was moaning, Miss. And cursing. And moaning. He was swearing about a knife. I listened, Miss--at the keyhole. I was scared. He kept cursing and moaning about a knife; about his arm--"
She whispered the word beneath her breath. "Yes, Miss. Cut in the arm. He would have it that way. And he wouldn't let me in. I waited for hours. And this morning I went into his room myself. He was in his shirt-sleeves. I pretended I wanted the linen for the wash. I was looking for blood, Miss. Not a drop did I find. Not a pin prick stain. But I seen him bandaging his arm; right in front of me he did it. And then I seen him rip the bandage off."