He was slow in his movements as the elderly maid servant assisted him to put on his overcoat, and he was as slowly drawing on his gloves when his eyes--slow also--travelled up the staircase and stopped at the first landing, where he seemed to see an indefinite heap of something lying.
"Am I mistaken or is--something--lying on the landing ?" he said to the woman.
The fact that he was impelled to make the inquiry seemed to him part of his abnormal state of mind.

What affair of his after all were curiously dropped bundles upon his hostess' staircase?
But-- "Please go and look at it," he added, and the woman gave him a troubled look and went up the stairs.
He himself was only a moment behind her.

He actually found himself following her as if he were guessing something.

When the maid cried out, he vaguely knew what he had been guessing.
"Oh!" the woman gasped, bending down.

"It's poor little Miss Lawless! Oh, my lord," wildly after a nearer glance, "She looks as if she was dead!".