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ache, or a little toothache, or the tedium of a sleepless night.
    Often she would get up and wander noiselessly round the house, picking up a book, fingering an ornament, rearranging a vase of flowers, writing a letter or two. In those midnight hours she had a feeling of the equal liveliness of the house through which she wandered. They were not disagreeable, those nocturnal wanderings. It was as though ghosts walked beside her, the ghosts of her sisters, Arabella, Matilda and Agnes, the ghost of her brother Thomas, the dear fellow as he was before That Woman got hold of him! Even the ghost of General Charles Laverton Arundell, that domestic tyrant with the charming manners who shouted and bullied his daughters but who nevertheless was an object of pride to them with his experiences in the Indian Mutiny and his knowledge of the world. What if there were days when he was “not quite so well” as his daughters put it evasively?
    Her mind reverting to her niece’s fiancé, Miss Arundell thought, “I don’t suppose he’ll ever take to drink! Calls himself a man and drank barley water this evening! Barley water! And I opened papa’s special port.”
    Charles had done justice to the port all right. Oh! if only Charles were to be trusted. If only one didn’t know that with him—
    Her thoughts broke off… Her mind ranged over the events of the weekend….
    Everything seemed vaguely disquieting….
    She tried to put worrying thoughts out of her mind.
    It was no good.
    She raised herself on her elbow and by the light of the nightlight that always burned in a little saucer she looked at the time.
    One o’clock and she had never felt less like sleep.
    She got out of bed and put on her slippers and her warm dressing gown. She would go downstairs and just check over the weekly books ready for the paying of them the following morning.
    Like a shadow she slipped from her room and along the corridor where one small electric bulb was allowed to burn all night.
    She came to the head of the stairs, stretched out one hand to the baluster rail and then, unaccountably, she stumbled, tried to recover her balance, failed and went headlong down the stairs.
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    The sound of her fall, the cry she gave, stirred the sleeping house to wakefulness. Doors opened, lights flashed on.
    Miss Lawson popped out of her room at the head of the staircase.
    Uttering little cries of distress she pattered down the stairs. One by one the others arrived—Charles, yawning, in a resplendent dressing gown. Theresa, wrapped in dark silk. Bella in a navy-blue kimono, her hair bristling with combs to “set the wave.”
    Dazed and confused Emily Arundell lay in a crushed heap. Her shoulder hurt her and her ankle—her whole body was a confused mass of pain. She was conscious of people standing over her, of that fool Minnie Lawson crying and making ineffectual gestures with her hands, of Theresa with a startled look in her dark eyes, of Bella standing with her mouth open looking expectant, of the voice of Charles saying from somewhere—very far away so it seemed—
    â€œIt’s that damned dog’s ball! He must have left it here and she tripped over it. See? Here it is!”
    And then she was conscious of authority, putting the othersaside, kneeling beside her, touching her with hands that did not fumble but knew.
    A feeling of relief swept over her. It would be all right now.
    Dr. Tanios was saying in firm, reassuring tones:
    â€œNo, it’s all right. No bones broken… Just badly shaken and bruised—and of course she’s had a bad shock. But she’s been very lucky that it’s no worse.”
    Then he cleared the others off a little and picked her up quite easily and carried her up to her bedroom, where he had held her wrist for a minute, counting, then nodded his head, sent Minnie (who was still crying and being generally a nuisance) out of the room to fetch brandy and to