“What do you want?” he demanded, impatiently.

“Is Mrs. Abercrombie sick?  Can we do anything for you, general?” said Mr. Craig, uttering the sentences that came first to his tongue.

“No!” in angry rejection of the offered service.  The door shut with a jar, and the key turned in the lock.  Mr. Craig stood for a moment irresolute, and then went back to his wife.  Nothing more was heard in the adjoining room.  Though they listened for a long time, no voice nor sound of any kind came to their ears.  The general had, to all appearance, thrown himself upon the bed and fallen asleep.

It was late on the next morning when Mr. and Mrs. Craig awoke.  Their first thought was of their neighbors, General and Mrs. Abercrombie.  The profoundest silence reigned in their apartments—­a silence death-like and ominous.

“If he has murdered her!” said Mrs. Craig, shivering at the thought as she spoke.

“I hope not, but I shouldn’t like to be the first one who goes into that room,” replied her husband.  Then, after a moment’s reflection, he said: 

“If anything has gone wrong in there, we must be on our guard and make no admissions.  It won’t do for us to let it be known that we heard the dreadful things going on there that we did, and yet gave no alarm.  I’m not satisfied with myself, and can hardly expect others to excuse where I condemn.”

CHAPTER XIV.

When Mr. and Mrs. Craig entered the breakfast-room, they saw, to their surprise, General Abercrombie and his wife sitting in their usual places.  They bowed to each other, as was their custom on meeting at the table.

The face of Mrs. Abercrombie was pale and her features pinched.  She had the appearance of one who had been ill and was just recovering, or of one who had endured exhausting pain of mind or body.  She arose from the table soon after Mr. and, Mrs. Craig made their appearance, and retired with her husband from the room.

“The general is all out of sorts this morning,” remarked a lady as soon as they were gone.

“And so is Mrs. Abercrombie,” said another.  “Dissipation does not agree with them.  They were at the grand party given last night by Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell.  You were among the guests, Mrs. Craig?”

The lady addressed bowed her affirmative.

“A perfect jam, I suppose?”

“Yes.”

“Who were there?  But I needn’t ask.  All the world and his wife, of course, little bugs and big bugs.  How was the entertainment?”

“Splendid!  I never saw such a profusion of everything.”

“Fools make feasts for wise men to eat,” snapped out the sharp voice of a lady whose vinegar face gave little promise of enjoyment of any kind.  Nobody thinks any more of them for it.  Better have given the money to some charity.  There’s want and suffering enough about, Heaven knows,”

“I don’t imagine that the charity fund has suffered anything in consequence of Mr. Birtwell’s costly entertainment,” replied Mr. Craig.  “If the money spent for last night’s feast had not gone to the wine-merchant and the caterer, it would have remained as it was.”