"Was you asking for Miss Madeley, Sir?" "Yes, I was; do you know anything of her?" "My mother did washing for her, and when she moved I had to take some things of hers to the new address." "Then you remember it?" "It's a goodish way from 'ere, Sir. Shall I go with you?" Hilliard understood. Like the good Samaritan of old, he took out twopence. The face of the dirty little girl brightened wonderfully. "Tell me the address; that will be enough." "Do you know Gower Place, Sir?" "Somewhere near Gower Street, I suppose?" His supposition was confirmed, and he learnt the number of the house to which Miss Madeley had transferred herself. In that direction he at once bent his steps. Gower Place is in the close neighbourhood of Euston Road; Hilliard remembered that he had passed the end of it on his first arrival in London, when he set forth from Euston Station to look for a lodging. It was a mere chance that he had not turned into this very street, instead of going further. Several windows displayed lodging-cards. On the whole, it looked a better locality than Belmont Street. Eve's removal hither might signify an improvement of circumstances. The house which he sought had a clean doorstep and unusually bright windows. His knock was answered quickly, and by a young, sprightly woman, who smiled upon him. "I believe Miss Madeley lives here?" "Yes, she does." "She is not at home just now?" "No. She went out after breakfast, and I'm sure I can't say when she'll be back." Hilliard felt a slight wonder at this uncertainty. The young woman, observing his expression, added with vivacious friendliness: "Do you want to see her on business?" "No; a private matter." This occasioned a smirk. "Well, she hasn't any regular hours at present. Sometimes she comes to dinner, sometimes she doesn't. Sometimes she comes to tea, but just as often she isn't 'ome till late. P'r'aps you'd like to leave your name?" "I think I'll call again." "Did you expect to find her at 'ome now?" asked the young woman, whose curiosity grew more eager as she watched Hilliard's countenance. "Perhaps," he replied, neglecting the question, "I should find her here to-morrow morning?" "Well, I can say as someone's going to call, you know." "Please do so." Therewith he turned away, anxious to escape a volley of interrogation for which the landlady's tongue was primed. He walked into Gower Street, and pondered the awkward interview that now lay before him. On his calling to-morrow, Miss Madeley would doubtless come to speak with him at the door; even supposing she had a parlour at her disposal, she was not likely to invite a perfect stranger into the house. How could he make her acquaintance on the doorstep? To be sure, he brought a message, but this commission had been so long delayed that he felt some shame about discharging it. In any case, his delivery of the message would sound odd; there would be embarrassment on both sides.