Stepping on tiptoe, as though fearful of attracting secret attentions, he turned from the hall into the first of the two rooms that opened from it to his right, and flashed his little torch to and fro. So far as he could gather, it was merely like the hall, commonplace. From the usual oil-cloth, and the usual marbled paper, he had passed to the usual lace curtains, cheap plush chairs, rickety tripod tables, antimacassars, and an ebony over-mantel painted with birds and adorned with tawdry glass vases from the sixpenny-halfpenny shop. Its unimaginative philistinism was so utter as to convey a certain comfort; no ghost of the past could possibly walk in such an atmosphere of raw newness. Gilead breathed out a little easing sigh, and turned to go. His foot was on the threshold, when he heard a sound that brought him to a stop, instant and startled. Someone outside was softly fitting a latchkey into the hall door! He backed into the room, clicking off his light, and, half-closing the door, stood motionless behind it. The act had been instinctive, unreflecting, but, being done, must abide its own consequences. In the meantime, hardly breathing, he was conscious that some human presence was in the hall; and the next moment he heard the front door softly closed. “Ah!” said a voice, subdued but perfectly clear: “that is well done so far. What a good luck that you had the thought to secure Valkenburg’s key.” Hamlin’s voice--the voice whose intonation still hung familiarly in his ear! Gilead’s nerves, in this sudden stress of danger, felt but undefined, tightened like bow-strings. “I think of things. Perhaps you’ll get to understand that and do me justice in time.” It was a girl who answered, low and distinct. “What are you doing with that match-box?” she said. “What does one generally do with a match-box?” “Well, don’t do it. It might attract a neighbour or a policeman. I know the place well enough to find my way about it in the dark.” “You’re a clever girl, Jennett” (Gilead gave ever so slight a start). “You can find your way to everything. I hardly expected you would turn up to your appointment in this fog. How long had you been waiting?” “I got here when I told you in my wire that I should.” “And with the key and all? By why here? Why not in the old place?” “What a cur you are, Tizzy. Don’t you understand? Because she’s polluted it for me. If you want me back you must find me another place than that. You might have got through that little time of separation, I think, without filling it in with a fresh fancy.” “Ah, there! You were the most unreasonably jealous, my darling.” “Was I? You are lying, you know. What a d----d fool you must take me for. Well, just assure me, please, that your answer to my wire was God’s truth. You have got rid of her?” “Yes, on my honour, Jennett, she is gone.” “That’s well for you.” “It is? You don’t mean to tell me you would really have gone those lengths in revenge?” “Wouldn’t I? And further.”