She put in a portfolio certain drawings which she had risen at a very matutinal hour to make; the portfolio she placed beneath her arm, and, thus equipped, she sallied forth upon her errand. The street in which she had her lodging being of modest pretensions, was but little frequented by cabs. She had a five minutes' walk before she found one. And during that short promenade she was the object of so much attention, especially from the females as she passed, that she was glad when, seated in a hansom, she was at least partially concealed by the friendly apron. She found the door of Mrs. Lamb's residence in Connaught Square wide open. On the steps stood a shabbily dressed man, with his hands in his trouser pockets, an ancient bowler pressed tightly down upon his head, and a clay pipe between his lips. When Margaret addressed him he moved neither his hat, nor himself, nor his pipe. "Is Mrs. Lamb in?" "From what the governor told me I shouldn't be surprised but what she's gone back to bed." Margaret considered the man's words. His manner was not exactly rude, it was peculiar. "Which is her bedroom?" "That's more than I can tell you. I ain't been upstairs myself. I've got a bad leg, and ain't too fond of going up and down stairs, especially when there ain't no need of it. But you'll find it somewhere that way, I expect." "May I ask who you are?" "Me?" Taking his pipe out, the man drew the back of his hand across his lips. "I'm representing the landlord; that's what I am." "Representing the landlord? Do you mean that you're a bailiff?" "A bailiff--that's it! I'm in possession; three quarters' rent--nearly four. My governor was only just in time. Seems there's a bill of sale on the furniture. They came up with their vans as my governor was going over the place; wanted to clear everything out, they did. Of course my governor soon put a stopper on that. There was a bit of a talk. I shouldn't be surprised if they was to pay my governor out. It's a queer business from what I hear." "Please let me pass, I want to see Mrs. Lamb." The man drew well back into the house. "Certainly; any lady can see Mrs. Lamb for what I care. I expect you'll find her somewhere about upstairs." As she ascended the staircase Miss Wallace indulged in inward comments. "The house looked very different the night before last; nobody would have guessed then that the shadow of ruin was already hovering over it. She must be a curious person to give a party to all that crowd of people when she knew that at any hour the brokers might be in for rent. And to talk of financing Harry's play! and paying him three hundred a year for doing nothing! But then she is a curious person. The house looks as if nothing had been touched in it since Mrs. Lamb's reception came to a premature conclusion--it smells like it too. What have we here? What a state of things!"