"And he tried to get into Miss Pattie's room, and he couldn't open the door. She was out, and the door was fastened." "What on earth could it have been fastened for?" asked Mrs. Cragg, trying to speak with indifference. She was conscious of failure, however, conscious of a very red face and a disquieted manner, and she saw, or thought she saw, that the girl eyed her curiously. She would have preferred to avoid an interview with her husband just then, but no doubt he would ask later if his message had been given, and she did not wish to arouse a spirit of inquiry. So she walked through the warehouse, hoping not to meet Cragg. Her hopes were vain, for she came plump upon him. Cragg looked up at her abstractedly, and then his gaze grew interested. "Has anything happened, my dear?" Mrs. Cragg tossed her head, and increased in redness. "Anything happened! What should happen, I should like to know?" "I thought you looked as if something was not right." "Well, something isn't. I don't want to be kept here, wasting my time." Mr. Cragg felt disposed to make a useless remark on the small amount of time thus wasted. He refrained because it would be useless. "If you've anything to say, you can make haste. I want to go out." "Ann told me you were out some time ago." "That don't hinder me wanting to go again now." Mrs. Cragg flattered herself that she had avoided telling an untruth, not realising the falsity of that little word "again." "Where have you been?" "I haven't been far; I'm going farther now. Anything else you want to know? I've got no time to waste." "My dear"—Cragg spoke nervously—"I want to show you this. I want to know if it really is yours, because if it is—" He held up a bill before her eyes, and Mrs. Cragg shoved it aside. "Really, Mr. Cragg, I haven't got time for bills this morning." "I'm afraid you'll have to find time. It's a bill 'rendered,' you see. No items given. You must have had it by you, unpaid, for some time. And not only that, but you will have to find the money too, if this sort of thing goes on. I cannot meet such demands." "Pooh, Mr. Cragg! A paltry fifteen pounds! And everybody knows what you're worth." "A good deal better than I know it myself, most likely. What are the fifteen pounds for?" "How should I know? Whose is it? Wakeforth & Co.? I suppose it is my green velveteen jacket, and—a few other things." "Dora, you will have to make a change. I am not a rich man. My business has been less successful the last two years than it used to be. There are more rivals now, and younger men with newer methods. I cannot afford this sort of thing." "And you must needs go and build houses that tumble down in a week and take up people that aren't your own!" "The first was a mistake; the second was a duty." Mrs. Cragg walked away, and Cragg, with a hopeless gesture, thrust the bill into his pocket. What could he do?