Diana of Kara-Kara by Edgar Wallace

He had never seen anybody as scared as Heloise was; that was the one clear impression which Gordon carried away from the interview. She, the self-possessed woman of the world, a soul, one superior to the lesser grades of humanity, seemed to have cowered and shrunk under the domination of Diana's baleful eye. Gordon sighed, tied his baize apron a little tighter round his waist, and wondered where Trenter kept his stock of plate powder. On the whole, it was good that Trenter was away, and that he was spared the sight of his master's humiliation. If indeed it was a humiliation to be thrust into an ill-lit pantry with instructions to clean the silver, and be ready at a moment's notice to make himself presentable. Gordon tried again and attacked a cream-jug half-heartedly. His hands were not designed for housework.

Yet he would as soon have thought of cutting his throat with a fruit knife (half-a-dozen of which awaited his attention) as disobey Diana's imperious gesture which had sent him off to the pantry to clean silver.