"Tell me," she said, after a minute, "Where did you both get to? I can't understand what happened."
"Perhaps we have been where you have been, Mrs. Richborough," replied Isbel coldly.
"Oh!…Do you mean that? Are you pretending you saw those extraordinary stairs, too?"
"Unless they were a figment of your brain, why should not we have seen them? As a matter of fact-I don't speak for Mr. Judge-I did see them, and went up them."
"I, too," said Judge.
"Then we are either all mad together, or something very strange has taken place. Possibly you can tell me where thy led to?"
"No; my memory is a blank, till I came down again."
"And you, Mr. Judge?"
"I also remember nothing."
Mrs. Richborough suddenly lost colour, and her breathing grew difficult. She recovered herself by a violent effort.
"You must both have gone up before me, and come down after me. How was that? And how did your ring come to fall down out of the wall? A ring doesn't escape from one's finger of its own accord."
"I cannot answer the conundrum." Isbel's face was like granite.
"If I were an engaged girl I should not like such a thing to happen to me. Have you no idea how it could have happened?"
"No."
"It's very, very strange." Mrs. Richborough essayed a laugh. "If it did not sound absolutely insane, one might almost suppose you had been playing pitch-and-toss with it."
Isbel went white to the lips, but she said nothing.
"You take it very calmly," proceeded the widow. "Let us hope that Mr. Stokes, when he hears…"
"Please hold your tongue, Mrs. Richborough! It has nothing whatever to do with you. I've not even told you that it is his ring. You are taking a very great deal for granted."
"You only wore one ring at lunch, my dear, and that was on the third finger of your left hand."
"Very well-then it is my engagement ring. What of it? Must I ask your permission before accidentally losing it?"
"I assure you I haven't the slightest wish to interfere in your affairs; still sometimes the advice of an older woman…"
"Oh, advice!…Well, what do you advise?"
"I think it is only good sense to try and find out something more about it. Let us assume that the explanation is supernatural…"-she looked up with a malicious half-smile-"or can you account for it in some other way?"
"I have already told you that I can't account for it. If you have any useful suggestion to make, please be quick about it."
"I suggest that we all come over here again in the morning and pursue the investigation. I cannot see what else there is to do."
"Why should you trouble to come again because I have mysteriously lost and found a ring?"
"Because I wish to," responded Mrs. Richborough, coolly.
"And if I refuse?"
"I shall assume that you consider my society undesirable."
"And…?"
"And act accordingly."
Isbel opened her bag to take out her handkerchief. In doing so, she encountered among it's miscellaneous contents a strange envelope. The light in the hall, though fast fading, was still sufficiently strong to read by, and she drew the letter out to see what it was.
It was addressed to Mrs. Richborough.
She turned it about in a puzzled manner. "This appears to be your property. How it comes to be reposing in my bag I have no idea."
The widow took it almost rudely.
"It certainly is mine. There's no letter inside-you haven't that inside your bag, I suppose?" She searched hurriedly in her own. "It's all right-I have it myself. I'm sorry. But what in the world are you doing with the envelope?"
"There's nothing written on it, by any chance?" suggested Judge thoughtfully.
Mrs. Richborough turned it over to see the back.
"Yes, there is. What led you to inquire?"
"If it's nothing personal, do you mind my looking?"
"I can't make head or tail of it. It's music." She handed it up to Judge, who gazed at it for some moments with a kind of uneasy rumination. Isbel looked over his shoulder.
"I only got that letter by this morning's post, so those notes must have been added since. Who did it?"
Isbel gave an icy smile. "We needn't stare at each other so suspiciously. Its sufficiently obvious what has happened. You wrote it yourself upstairs, Mrs. Richborough, and I picked it up and brought it down with me."
"You really think that?"
"I'm convinced of it."
"Then all I can say is we're living in the land of dreams!"…Continuing to gaze at the back of the envelope, she started to whistle softly through the roughly-written notes of music. The others listened intently. The tune was unrecognisable, yet there was something strangely perplexing in it. It broke off abruptly in the middle; there was no more written down. They stole questioning glances at each other.
The gloom of the hall deepened…Suddenly, the fragment of air which Mrs. Richborough had just whistled was repeated by a distant stringed instrument, which seemed to possess very much the vibrating timbre and deep register of a double bass. It continued to carry the theme to its proper ending. The sound appeared to come from a very long way off, for though quite clear it was extraordinarily faint; it gave them the impression of being high over their heads, but, for all that, seemed to belong to the house…it lasted for littler longer than a minute, then everything went back to silence.
Judge stood looking as though he were still unable to grasp what had happened, Isbel's white face bore a peculiar smile, but Mrs. Richborough was obliged to take deep and rapid breaths to prevent herself from swooning again. She sat erect in her chair, holding on to the arms.
"What was that?" demanded Judge at last.
"It reopens everything," replied Isbel.
"What do you mean?"
"It looks as if they do not mean to leave us alone. We are not to be allowed to go back, so we must go on. So be it! I am content."
"I don't understand you."
"I think you do, but it doesn't matter."
"I must ask you to speak more clearly, Miss Loment."
"It is not what I say, or what I do, but what is being decided for us. Mrs. Richborough was quite right-we must come here again to-morrow."
"Please take me outside," murmured the widow weakly. Judge at once moved to her assistance, but the girl stepped in between.
"Wait a minute!…" She faced Judge. "Do you think things can stop here? Have you no manhood at all? What do you imagine it all means?"
"I must refuse to take the responsibility of inviting you to this house again, Miss Loment." He attempted to speak with firmness but his voice trembled. "If we go on-as you call it-nothing but unpleasantness awaits us; that is manifest. In the meantime, we ought to hurry home as fast as possible. She is seriously unwell."
Mrs. Richborough really looked ghastly. He hastily produced his flask again, which this time she did not refuse. After swallowing a portion of the contents she felt better.
"I shall be quite well in the morning, Mr. Judge," she managed to say the next minute. "Perhaps there will be no great pleasure in coming here again, but we have all a duty to perform. Miss Loment's whole future happiness may be involved."
He eyed her sternly. "What makes you say that?"
"I am neither more intelligent than you, Mr. Judge, not more enlightened; there is not the slightest necessity for me to explain my words. I insist upon our all coming here to-morrow morning."
"You insist?"
"That's what I said. I will not consent to leave things in their present uncertainty. I also am implicated in a certain degree. If you really refuse, I shall have to consider where my further duty lies."
"That is plain enough language, I think, Mr. Judge," said Isbel, dryly. "You had better accept. It is the smaller of two evils."
Judge looked at her, but made no reply. He offered his arm to Mrs. Richborough, and she at last got up from her chair.