At one o'clock the gas-flame in the hallway outside the rear third-floor apartment flared sootily and waned to a weary bead as the pressure receded. Through the opacity of the sudden fog the formal-faced door faded into the gloom, and Miss Essie Birdsong pushed the knob stealthily inch by inch to save the squeak. "Plunk-plunk-plunka-plunka-plunk-plunk! Essie?" "'Sh-h-h-h! Yes, Jimmie--it's only me. Why you makin' that noise? Why's the light burning? What's--" "Essie! Essie, is that you and--" "Ma dearie, you--What's the matter? You ain't sick, are you? What's--what's wrong, Jimmie? Please, what's wrong?" She stood with her back to the door, her face struck with fear suddenly, as with white forked lightning, and her breath coming on every alternate heart-beat. "Ma! Jimmie! For Gawd's sakes, what's the matter?" The transitional falsetto of her brother's voice came to her gritty as slate scratching slate, and cold, prickly flesh sprang out over her. "Don't come in here! You--you and your friend stay out there a minute till ma kinda gets her breath back; she--she's all right--ain't you, ma? You and your friend just wait just a minute, Ess." "Me and---" "Yeh; both of you wait. Nothing ain't wrong--is it, ma? There, just lay back on the pillow a minute, ma. Gwan; be a sport! Look, your cheek's all red from restin' on my shoulder so long. Lemme go a minute and bring Essie and her gen'l'man friend in to see you. Gee! After you been waitin' and waitin' you--you ain't goin' to give out the last minute. There ain't nothin' to be scared about, ma. Lemme go in just a minute. Here it is, ma; don't break it--seven years' bad luck for smashin' a hand-mirror. Here; you look swell, ma--swell!" "Tell him it ain't like me to give out like this. Take them bottles and that ice away, Jimmie--throw my flowered wrapper over my shoulders. There! Now tell him, Jimmie, it ain't like me." "Surest thing, ma. Watch me!" He emerged from the bedroom suddenly, his face twisted and his whispering voice like cold iron under the stroke of an anvil, and Essie trembled as she stood. "Jimmie!" "You--you devil, you! Where is he?" She edged away from him with limbs that seemed as though they took root at every step and she must tear each foot from the carpet. "To-morrow night he's comin' sure, Jimmie; he couldn't to-night, he--couldn't." Jimmie's lips drew back from his gums as though too dry to cover them. "You--you street-runner, you!" "Jimmie!" "You--you--you--" "For Gawd's sakes, she'll hear you, Jimmie!" "You devil, you! You've killed her, I tell you! I've been holdin' her in there for two hours, with the sweat standing out on her like water--you--" "Oh, Gawd! Jimmie, lemme run for old man Gibbs; lemme--" "Oh no, you don't! Lizzie Marks down-stairs is gone for him--but that ain't goin' to help none; what she wants is _you_--you and your low-down sneaking friend; and she's goin' to have him, too." "He's gone, Jimmie. What--"