His cook, and the other domestics, necessary for conducting an establishment of that size, were engaged by the day.
Kara had returned from the country earlier than had been anticipated, and, save for Fisher, the only other person in the house beside the girl, was the middle-aged domestic who was parlour-maid, serving-maid and housekeeper in one.
Miss Holland sat at her desk to all appearance reading over the letters she had typed that afternoon but her mind was very far from the correspondence before her.

She heard the soft thud of the front door closing, and rising she crossed the room rapidly and looked down through the window to the street.

She watched Fisher until he was out of sight; then she descended to the hall and to the kitchen.
It was not the first visit she had made to the big underground room with its vaulted roof and its great ranges--which were seldom used nowadays, for Kara gave no dinners.
The maid--who was also cook--arose up as the girl entered.
"It's a sight for sore eyes to see you in my kitchen, miss," she smiled.
"I'm afraid you're rather lonely, Mrs.Beale," said the girl sympathetically.
"Lonely, miss!" cried the maid.

"I fairly get the creeps sitting here hour after hour.

It's that door that gives me the hump." She pointed to the far end of the kitchen to a soiled looking door of unpainted wood.
"That's Mr.Kara's wine cellar--nobody's been in it but him.