“Come in,” I said, unlocking the door and lighting up my room. “You can be as angry as you like in here, and it won't hurt anything.” Mother Borton stormed a bit, and then sullenly walked in and took a chair. Silence fell on her as she crossed the threshold, but she glowered on us with fierce eyes. “It's quite an agreeable surprise to see you,” I ventured as cheerfully as I could, as she made no move to speak. My followers looked awkward and uncomfortable. At the sound of my voice, Mother Borton's bent brows relaxed a little. “If you'd send these fellows out, I reckon we could talk a bit better,” she said sourly. “Certainly. Just wait in the hall, boys; and close the door.” Porter and Barkhouse ambled out, and Mother Borton gave her chair a hitch that brought us face to face. “You ain't so bad off here,” she said, looking around critically. “Can any one git in them winders?” I explained that the west window might be entered from the rear stairway by the aid of the heavy shutter, if it were swung back and the window were open. I added that we kept it closed and secured. “And you say there's a thirty-foot drop from this winder?” she inquired, pointing to the north. I described the outlook on the alley. She nodded as if satisfied. “I reckon you don't think I come on a visit of perliteness?” she said sharply, after a brief silence. I murmured something about being glad to entertain her at any time. “Nonsense!” she sniffed. “I'm a vile old woman that the likes of you would never put eyes on twice if it wasn't for your business--none knows it better than me. I don't know why I should put myself out to help ye.” Her tone had a touch of pathos under its hardness. “I know why,” I said, a little touched. “It's because you like me.” She turned a softened eye on me. “You're right,” she said almost tenderly, with a flash of womanly feeling on her seamed and evil face. “I've took a fancy to ye and no mistake, and I'd risk something to help ye.” “I knew you would,” I said heartily. “And that's what I come to do,” she said, with a sparkle of pleasure in her eye. “I've come to warn ye.” “New dangers?” I inquired cheerfully. My prudence suggested that I had better omit any mention of the warning from Dicky Nahl. “The same ones,” said Mother Borton shortly, “only more of 'em.” Then she eyed me grimly, crouching in her chair with the appearance of an evil bird of prey, and seemed to wait for me to speak. “What is the latest plot?” I asked gravely, as I fancied that my light manner grated on my strange guest. “I don't know,” she said slowly. “But you know something,” I argued. “Maybe you know what I know better than I knows it myself,” growled Mother Borton with a significant glance. I resigned myself to await her humor. “Not at all,” said I carelessly. “I only know that you've come to tell me something, and that you'll tell it in your own good time.”