He was an Italian servant and was accustomed, as all the servants of the villa were, to accepting without question any strange thing his foreign master might do.

No one ever knew when he would go out or come in or where he would choose to sleep or if he would roam about the garden or lie in the boat on the lake all night.

The man held a salver with some letters on it and he waited quietly until Mr.Craven took them.

When he had gone away Mr.Craven sat a few moments holding them in his hand and looking at the lake.

His strange calm was still upon him and something more--a lightness as if the cruel thing which had been done had not happened as he thought--as if something had changed.