The Shadow of the Dead Hand by Fred M. White

Alcie sat crouched up there listening intently to the rather curt conversation which was going on between the two men. She had not the slightest idea why she was so deeply interested, except the feeling that there was something wrong here, and that it was indirectly connected with the eccentric old nobleman who had so recently taken her into his employ. Moreover, it came to her, as she sat there, that she had seen the man addressed as Rogers before. Another glance at him and she was certain.

Yes, she knew well enough, though she had never been sufficiently close to actually identify him. Twice during the last few days the big man with the leonine mane of hair and sweeping beard had been on the terrace in front of the castle with the earl, where apparently they had been engaged in some business. And Alcie knew well enough that the earl put business before everything. She had been at the castle quite long enough to understand that Kindale was not only a collector of old books and antique silver, but also a dealer in these things. No doubt the man addressed as Rogers had come down there on some commercial errand. At any rate, he had been in the castle grounds twice, and on this point Alcie had no sort of doubt. Nor was there anything about his external appearance to prejudice her in his favour.