Stranger by the Lake by Jennifer Wilde

the liquor cart and poured a stiff Scotch. Craig laughed aloud when he observed this, the others turning to stare at him. He made a bow and grinned a cocky grin. Aunt Agatha smiled, pleased with him, and Paul looked bewildered. Althea merely nodded sharply. I had the strong impression that she had observed everything.
    â€œDid you finish your chapter this afternoon, Craig?” Aunt Agatha inquired.
    He nodded. “The first draft, at least. I’ll have to check a few of my facts before I put it in final form.”
    â€œI’d like to see it later on tonight,” she said.
    â€œFeel free.”
    Paul Matthews stood up, heaving a sigh and taking out his watch. “It’s getting late, Agatha,” he said. “I imagine I should be getting back to town.”
    â€œI’m ready to leave, too,” Althea said, pulling herself up with much crackling of green taffeta. “Craig, you want to escort me?”
    â€œCertainly, luv. My pleasure.”
    He linked his arm in hers and took her out of the room. Aunt Agatha and I walked to the front door with Dr. Matthews. Earl and his brother were in the front hall. They leaped up happily when they saw their master. He petted both dogs, smiling at their enthusiasm. Prince was darker than his brother, his coat a sleek silvery blue.
    â€œDown!” Paul cried. “That’s enough! Run along now.”
    The dogs looked unhappy, slumping down on their haunches. Then Earl leaped up to give me another kiss on the cheek and both of them bounded out of the hall, their heavy paws making loud thumps.
    â€œEarl has taken a fancy to Susan,” Aunt Agatha said.
    â€œQuite,” I added.
    â€œI’m glad to be rid of ’em for a while,” Paul said, smiling broadly. “It’s been a nice evening, Agatha. Thank you for asking me. I don’t want to hear any more about your refusing the pills, hear? You need them, or I wouldn’t have sent ’em over. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” he continued, turning to me. “You keep an eye on her. Promise?”
    â€œIt’s a promise,” I replied.
    Paul left, and Aunt Agatha squeezed my hand. “I’m going to go fetch Craig’s chapter and take it on up to my bedroom,” she said, brushing her long black skirt and fiddling with the rope of pearls. “Are you coming up, dear?”
    â€œNot just yet,” I replied. “I—I think I’ll take a little walk in the gardens. I’m afraid I had a bit too much Scotch. The night air will do me good.”
    â€œVery well,” she said, giving me a hug.
    â€œWhat about the candles?” I inquired.
    â€œCraig will put them out when he comes back. Your oil lamp is there on the table, I see. Be sure you take it up with you——”
    â€œI wouldn’t dream of going up without it,” I said.
    Aunt Agatha went on upstairs, and I was alone in the great hall, the candles splattering the walls with wavering golden light. I wasn’t at all sleepy, and I was a bit giddy from the Scotch. I stepped through the small drawing room and opened the French windows, going on out onto the terrace. The moon was high, half obscured by enormous gray clouds, but pouring silvery light over their dark rims. Leaving the terrace, I strolled aimlessly toward the lake, positively determined to avoid Craig Stanton if he should by any chance see me on his return from Dower House.

CHAPTER FIVE
    The gardens were drenched in moonlight, everything black and silver, sharply outlined, a misty haze in the air. It was rather like a neo-impressionist painting, I thought, pink and orange-pink roses barely showing their colors in the mellow light, tall green shrubs more black than green. Moving down the flat marble steps, I smelled the fragrant odors, a stronger odor of soil and dead leaves underlining the sweet smell of rose petals. It was rather chilly out, a breeze causing leaves to tremble. I paused,