For, of a sudden, a swift pattering footfall and a glimmer of moving light had sprung into being and drawn his eyes upward; and there, overhead, was Miss Lome coming down the stairs from the upper floor in a state of nervous excitement, and with a bedroom candle in her shaking hand, a loose gown flung on over her nightdress, and her hair streaming over her shoulders in glorious disarray.
He stood and looked at her, with ever-quickening breath, with ever-widening eyes, as though the beauty of her had wakened some dormant sense whose existence he had never suspected; as though, until now, he had never known how fair it was possible for a woman to be, how fair, how lovable, how much to be desired; and whilst he was so looking she reached the foot of the staircase and came pantingly toward him.
"Oh, Mr.Narkom, what was it--that noise I heard ?" she said in a tone of deepest agitation.

"It sounded like a struggle--like the noise of something breaking--and I dressed as hastily as I could and came down.
Did he come?
Has he been here?
Have you caught him?
Oh! why don't you answer me, instead of staring at me like this?
Can't you see how nervous, how frightened, I am?
Dear Heaven! will no one tell me what has happened ?" "Nothing has happened, miss," answered Petrie, catching her eye as she flashed round on him.

"You'd better go back to bed.

Nobody's been here but Sir Horace.

The noise you heard was me a-grabbing of him, and he and Mr.Narkom a-tumbling over something as they went down to look at the furnace." "Furnace?
What furnace?
What are you talking about ?" she cried agitatedly.