"Where is she now? Where is Mr Brand? I must see him at once," said Janet, at last realizing that the history of the fire would go on for ever. "Mrs Brand was took into the billiard-room," said the lift man. "Mr Brand is with her, and the doctor. There! The doctor is coming out now." A grey-haired man shot out through the crowd, ran down the steps, and disappeared into a brougham privileged to remain at the entrance. "Take me to Mr Brand this instant," said Janet, shaking the hall porter by the arm. The man looked as if he would have been surprised at her vehemence if there were any spring of surprise left in him, but it had obviously run down from overwinding. He slowly led the way through a swing door, and down a dark passage lit by electric light. At a large ground-glass door with "Billiard-Room" on it he stopped, and tapped. There was no answer. Janet opened the door, went in, and closed it behind her. She almost stumbled against Mr Brand, who was standing with his back towards her, his face to the wall, in the tiny antechamber, bristling with empty pegs, which led into the billiard-room. It was dark save for the electric light in the passage, which shone feebly through the ground-glass door. Mr Brand turned slowly as Janet almost touched him. His death-white face was the only thing visible. He did not speak. Janet gazed at him horror-struck. Gradually, as her eyes became accustomed to the dim light, she saw the little dapper, familiar figure, with its immaculate frock-coat, and corseted waist, and the lean, sallow, wrinkled face, with its retreating forehead and dyed hair, and waxed, turned-up moustaches. One of the waxed ends had been bent, and drooped forlornly, grotesquely. It was perhaps inevitable that the money-lender should be nicknamed "Monkey Brand," a name pronounced by many with a sneer not devoid of fear. "How is she?" said Janet at last. "She is dying," said Monkey Brand, his chin shaking. "Her back is broken." A nurse in cap and apron silently opened the inner door into the billiard-room. "Mrs Brand is asking for you, sir," she said gently. "I will come," he said, and he went back into the billiard-room. The nurse looked enquiringly at Janet. "I am Mrs Brand's friend," said Janet. "She is expecting me." "She takes it very hard now, poor thing," said the nurse; "and she was so brave at first." And they both went into the billiard-room, and remained standing at the further end of it. It was a large, gaudily-decorated room, adorned with sporting prints, and lit by a skylight, on to which opaque bodies, evidently fallen from a height, lay in blots, starring the glass. The billiard-table was littered with doctors' appliances, and at the end near the door the nurse had methodically arranged a line of towels and basins, with a tin can of hot water and a bucket swathed in flannel with ice in it. The large room, with its glaring upper light, was hot and still, and smelt of stale smoke and chloroform.