Julian gave the number in Harley Street rather abstractedly. Their conversation had led him to think of the little doctor. Would he be glad to see him again? And would Valentine? He tried to realize, and presently understood, and had a moment of shame at his own feeling. Soon afterwards he went away. That night, before she went to Piccadilly, Cuckoo walked round to Harley Street. She wandered slowly down the long thoroughfare and presently came to the doctor's house. There was a brass plate upon the door. The light from a gas lamp, just lit, flickered upon it, and Cuckoo, stopping, bent downwards and slowly read the printed name, "Doctor Levillier." Did it look a nice name, a kind name? She considered that question childishly, standing there alone. Then, without making up her mind on the subject, she turned to go. As she did so she saw the tall figure of a man motionless under the gas-lamp on the other side of the street. He was evidently regarding her, and Cuckoo felt a sudden thrill of terror as she recognized Valentine. They stood still on the two pavements for a minute, looking across at one another. Cuckoo could only see Valentine's face faintly, but she fancied it was angry and distorted, and her terror grew. She hesitated what to do, when he made what seemed to her a threatening gesture, and walked quickly away down the street. CHAPTER VII THE LADY OF THE FEATHERS BUCKLES ON HER ARMOUR That evening Cuckoo remained in a condition of mingled terror and resolution. There was something about Valentine that filled her, not merely with alarm, but with a nameless horror, indescribable and inveterate. She felt that he was her deadly enemy and the enemy of Julian. But he had cast such a spell over Julian that the latter was blinded and ready to follow him anywhere, and not merely to follow him, but to defend every step he took. Cuckoo had a sense of entering upon a combat with Valentine. As she stood upon the doorstep in Harley Street and faced him under the gas-lamp, were they not as antagonists definitely crossing swords for the first time? It seemed so to her. And the impression upon her was so strong and so exciting, that for once she broke through her invariable routine. Instead of going to Piccadilly she went home to her lodgings. It was about half-past nine when she arrived and opened the door with her latchkey. Mrs. Brigg happened to be in the passage _en route_ to the kitchen from some business in the upper regions. She stared upon Cuckoo with amazement. "What ever," she began, her voice croaky with interrogation. "Are you ill? What are you back for?" "I'm all right," said Cuckoo crossly. "Leave me alone, do." She turned into her sitting-room. Mrs. Brigg followed, open-mouthed. "Ain't you a-goin' out ag'in?" "No; oh do leave off starin'. What's the matter with you?" Mrs. Brigg heaved a thick sigh and shuffled round upon her heels, which made a noise upon the oilcloth like the boots of the comic man at a music-hall.