“So then, what did you do next?” I asked.
Stella shrugged. “I didn’t know what to do, so I just did as the mistress had instructed me. I emptied her bath, took little Toby out for his evening walk, put another couple of logs on her fire, turned off the gas lamps, and went home.”
“Toby is the dog from the portrait, I presume?”
“That’s right sir. When I brought him back, he ran straight up to the mistress’s room, he used to sleep on the bed with her, you see.”
“And the next morning?”
This time she sat back in her seat, and looked at me, sheepishly.
“She was gone, sir. I arrived at my usual time, took the mistress up her morning tea, but she was not in bed. I searched the house from top to bottom, calling out to her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Little Toby was jumping up and down in
