Suddenly my anxiety became poignant. A party of men, among whom I
saw Mr. Durand, appeared at the end of the hall, led by a very
small but self-important personage whom my uncle immediately
pointed out as the detective who had twice come to the door near
which I stood. As this man looked up and saw me still there, a
look of relief crossed his face, and, after a word or two with
another stranger of seeming authority, he detached himself from
the group he had ushered upon the scene, and, approaching me
respectfully enough, said with a deprecatory glance at my uncle
whose frown he doubtless understood:

"Miss Van Arsdale, I believe?"

I nodded, too choked to speak.

"I am sorry, Madam, if you were expecting to go. Inspector
Dalzell has arrived and would like to speak to you. Will you step
into one of these rooms? Not the library, but any other. He will
come to you as quickly as he can."

I tried to carry it off bravely and as if I saw nothing in this
summons which was unique or alarming. But I succeeded only in
dividing a wavering glance between him and the group of men of
which he had just formed a part. In the latter were several
gentlemen whom I had noted in Mrs. Fairbrother's train early in
the evening and a few strangers, two of whom were officials. Mr.
Durand was with the former, and his expression did not encourage
me.