CHAPTER III. THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.

Hetty darted up the secondary staircase intent only on her little charge. The child was unusually nervous and imaginative, as if she had been frightened by the ghost stories of a foolish nurse. Alternatively her mother's pet and encumbrance, Mamie had been driven back upon herself. And she had given up all the love of her heart to Hetty.

It was quite silent upstairs; there was no sign of a maid anywhere. As Hetty reached the landing the frightened bleating cry broke out again. There was only a night-light in the nursery; a little white figure sat moaning in bed.

"You poor little mite," Hetty said tenderly. "There, there. I shall stay here and not leave you any more until you go to sleep. Where is Richards?"

"She said she wouldn't be a minute," Mamie sobbed. "I had one of my headaches and I couldn't go to sleep. Then I began to get frightened and I wanted somebody to talk to me. I could hear the people and the music downstairs, so I just got out of bed and went into the corridor."

"Ah, that is why your feet are so cold. Well?"

"I stood in the corridor for some time," Mamie continued with her head on Hetty's shoulder. "The blinds were up and I could see those two wide windows in the Corner House. Richards' father was a footman there and she told me all about the poor dead lady and the dark husband who never said anything----"

"Richards shall tell you no more stories," Hetty murmured. "Go on, pet."

"And then I began to think about it and wonder. And when I was wondering and wondering and looking into those dark windows I saw a light."

"You saw a light? In one of those windows? Nonsense!"

"Dearest, it was not nonsense at all. The shadow of the light was all across my nightdress. I was so frightened that I could not call out because the Corner House is empty and it must have been a ghost. But that was not all."

"You fancied that you saw something besides the light?"

"I am certain," said Mamie with a resolute nod. "There was a face, a face looking out of the window. Oh, such a terrible face! It was dirty and grimy and one eye was all discoloured, and both the eyes were wild and fierce and hungry, just like that new tiger at the Zoo. Then the face went away and I screamed, and that's all, dearest, and oh, I am so dreadfully tired."

The little dark head fell back and the troubles were forgotten for the moment. The child was breathing regularly and peacefully now. More disturbed and uneasy than she cared to admit, Hetty crept out into the corridor. A certain amount of light from the house and the street fell on the blank side of the Corner House. There were the two blank windows at one of which Mamie had seen the face. It must have been imagination, seeing that the Corner House had been deserted for years. Hetty knew its story as well as anybody else.

Was it possible that some crime or tragedy was being enacted behind those grimy walls, all unknown to the police? The house was reported to be luxuriously furnished, the front of the place was all shuttered. Stranger things are happening in this London of ours every day in the week.

She could certainly mention the matter to----. Hetty stopped suddenly and caught her breath. A faint light had commenced to glow in the Corner House, gradually the blank window shaped to a luminous outline. The light grew stronger and stronger, till Hetty could see the balustrade of the staircase. And then, surely enough there came a face to the window.

A dreadful face, a face dull and dissipated, with horrible watery red eyes, yet full of malice and cunning and passion. There was a bristle of whiskers and a moustache, as if chin and razor had for days been strangers. As suddenly as the face had come it turned. A hand shot out from somewhere, as if seeking for the throat of the strange apparition, a fist was uplifted, and the figure disappeared, evidently going down before a cruel and crushing blow. The light vanished; it had probably been overturned and gone out.

"Good heavens!" Hetty cried. "Did you see that?"

She was conscious that somebody was by her side. She looked and found that her companion was the Countess. No answer came. Hetty touched the other's arm. She was shaking from head to foot like a reed in the gale.

"Did you see that?" Hetty demanded, again.

The woman by her side was slowly recovering herself. A minute later and she was her cold calm self again.

"I saw nothing," she said, between her teeth. "And you saw nothing. It was some trick of the imagination. There is nobody in yonder house. When I took this place a year ago so that I could be near--what am I talking about? I have been working too hard at my pleasures lately; I shall have to take a rest."

"I am not suffering from any delusions," Hetty said, coldly.

"All the same, you will say nothing," Leona Lalage hissed. "What you have seen or what you imagine you have seen tonight is to remain a secret between us for all time. Do you understand me? There is no better friend than I in all the world, and there is no more dangerous enemy. See?"

She gripped the girl's arm with fearful force. A strong man would have had no more firm a clasp. Hetty winced under the pain, but no cry escaped her lips. There was some dark mystery here, some evil connexion between the desolation of the Corner House and the brilliant establishment in Lytton Avenue. Else why would Countess Lalage have been so far from the centre of the small world called Society?

"It is nothing to me," Hetty said coldly. "If you desire to avoid a scandal for the sake of the house, my lips are sealed. If you have nothing further to say to me, I will go and see if Mamie is still asleep."