Let us go."
Julian got up. Valentine took up the candle from its place beside the
curling-pins and lifted his hand to the gas-chandelier. He had turned
out one of the burners, and was just going to turn out the two others
when Julian checked him.
"No; leave them. Let the landlord put them out. Leave him in the light."
They went out of the room, treading softly. A little way up the
staircase that led from the landing to the upper parts of the house
a light flickered down to them, and they perceived the pale face of
the housemaid diligently regarding them. Julian beckoned to her.
"You showed the gentleman--the gentleman who is dead--to his room last
night?"
"Yes, sir. Oh, sir, I can't believe he's really gone so sudden like."
"Then you saw the lady with him?"
"Yes, of course. Oh--"
"Hush! What was she like?"
The housemaid's nose curled derisively.
"Oh, sir, quite the usual sort. Oh, a very common person. Not at all like
the poor gentleman, sir."
"Young?"
"Not to say old, sir. No; I couldn't bring that against her. She wore a
hat, sir, and feathers--well, more than ever growed on one ostrich, I'll
be bound."
"Feathers!"
A vision of the lady of the feathers sprang up before Julian, wrapped
in the wan light of the early dawn.
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