“Had you not better stay here for the night?” said Mrs. Boniface presently. “I can’t bear to think of your having that long walk through the fog.” “You are very kind,” he said, “but Sigrid would be frightened if I didn’t turn up,” and kissing Lance, he sat him down on the hearthrug, and rose to go. Cecil’s thanks and warm hand-clasp lingered with him pleasantly, and he set out on his walk home all the better for his visit to Rowan Tree House. CHAPTER XXXI. Had it not been for the fog his long walk might have made him sleepy, but the necessity of keeping every faculty on the alert and of sharply watching every crossing and every landmark made that out of the question. Moreover, now that he had quite recovered from his illness it took a great deal to tire him, and, whenever he did succumb, it was to mental worry, never to physical fatigue. So he tramped along pretty cheerfully, rather enjoying the novelty of the thing, but making as much haste as he could on account of Sigrid. He had just reached the outer door of the model lodgings and was about to unlock it with the key which was always furnished to those whose work detained them beyond the hour of closing, when he was startled by something that sounded like a sob close by him. He paused and listened; it came again. “Who is there?” he said, straining his eyes to pierce the thick curtain of fog that hung before him. The figure of a woman approached him. “Oh, sir,” she said, checking her sobs, “have you the key, and can you let me in?” “Yes, I have a key. Do you live here?” “No, sir, but I’m sister to Mrs. Hallifield. Perhaps you know Hallifield, the tram conductor. I came to see him to-night because he was taken so ill, but I got hindered setting out again, and didn’t allow time to get back to Macdougal’s. I’m in his shop, and the rule at his boarding-house is that the door is closed at eleven and mayn’t be opened any more, and when I got there sir, being hindered with the fog, it was five minutes past.” “And they wouldn’t let you in?” asked Frithiof. “What an abominable thing—the man ought to be ashamed of himself for having such a rule! Come in; why you must be half-frozen! I know your sister quite well!” “I can never thank you enough,” said the poor girl. “I thought I should have had to stay out all night! There’s a light, I see, in the window; my brother-in-law is worse, I expect.” “What is wrong with him?” asked Frithiof.