That such was sufficiently powerful seems proven by the fact that the clock was striking seven, and Jabez was with difficulty restrained from striking the clock, when he picked up his parcels and made for "home." His progress was of necessity somewhat leisurely, and by the time he arrived there most of his "indecision" had passed off. Mother Mandarin was out; and the room was empty save for one man in a long cloak, who sat before the fire warming his hands. "You?" cried Jabez, as he recognised his friend Garson, alias Farren, and as he very much feared, alias Judas. "You here?" "And why should I not be?" replied the man coolly. "Is it not my custom to smoke a pipe on occasions?" "I mean, are you alone?" "I am always alone," replied Farren in the most melancholy voice. Jabez closed the door, and taking up a stool sat down near to the man. The glimmering lamp overhead cast its flickering light over both of them. Outside the wind was howling, and shook the crazy window frames. As he looked at his companion, Jabez felt a sense of satisfaction in that he had despatched that note to Miriam--the man was so sinister looking. For a time there was silence between them. At last Farren spoke. "What has become of our good hostess?" he asked. "I hunger for my pipe. Glorious comfort! What should we poor devils be without it? At least, we have always that--our Paradise if fleeting can be reached for the asking." Jabez was taking no notice of what he said. He seemed indeed not to hear. His thoughts were concentrated upon himself and his probable fate at the hands of the man opposite to him, had it not been for the timely warning of his sister. At last he had to give voice to them. "Look here, Mr.--Mr. Farren----" He looked up quickly at the mention of his name. "Who told you that?" he asked slowly. "My sister, Miriam----" "Miriam Crane, or I should say Mrs. Gerald Arkel? So she told you, did she? And how did she come to know?" "Her friend, Mrs. Parsley, wife of the Vicar of Lesser Thorpe, saw you with me in West Kensington the other day." "Mrs. Parsley!--how well I remember her. And so she remembered me? To her I owe my resurrection?--an energetic old lady, Mrs. Parsley, if I recollect rightly. Dear me, how long ago it all seems!" "You admit you _are_ Farren?" "Assuredly so--to _you_. I would admit anything--to _you_. You are to me a cypher, Mr. Jabez Crane; a plaything, if I so wish--for I hold you here--here, in the hollow of my hand. Do you begin to comprehend?" "Oh yes, I comprehend; you are Barton's spy. You know my secret. But why should you want to betray me? We have been friends. I have done you no harm. You've nothing to gain by it. Why round on me?" "I have no wish to, friend." "That's a lie, and you know it. You have been watching me--tracking me here, there, and everywhere, like the dirty spy you are!" "So you take me for a Judas? Have I asked you for money?" "No!"