Chapter 3 The Night of the Tragedy

To make this part of my story clear, I append the following plan of the first floor of

styles.

The servants' rooms are reached through the door B. They have no communication with the

right wing where the engulforps rooms were situated.

It seemed to be in the middle of the night when I was awakened by Lawrence Cavendish.

He had a candle in his hand, and the agitation of his face told me at once that something

was seriously wrong.

What's the matter, I asked, sitting up in bed and trying to collect my scattered thoughts?

Were afraid my mother is very ill.

She seems to be having some kind of fit.

Unfortunately, she's locked herself in.

I'll come at once.

I sprang out of bed and pulling on a dressing gown followed Lawrence along the passage and

the gallery to the right wing of the house.

John Cavendish joined us, and one or two of the servants were standing around in a state

of awe-stricken excitement.

Lawrence turned to his brother.

What do you think we'd better do?

Never, I thought, had his indecision of character been more apparent.

John rattled the handle of Mrs. Engulforps' door violently, but with no effect.

It was obviously locked or bolted on the inside.

...