His voice was deep and gentle. It gave the same impression of strength behind it that a quiet wave does of the sea. He stood with his head thrown slightly back, an austere, massive figure, not without a certain dignity. And as he looked at Janet, there was just room in his narrow, near-sighted slits of eyes for a stern kindliness to shine through. Children and dogs always made a bee-line for Stephen. As Janet did not answer, he said again. "I trust you will not attempt to go down the passage to your right. It is not safe." "No," said Janet, and she remembered her instructions. "I am only here to see if De Rivaz' picture of Mrs Brand is safe." "Here is De Rivaz himself," said Stephen. "May we come in a moment and look at it? I am afraid I came in without asking last night, with the police inspector." "Do come in," said Janet. The painter came in, and glanced at the picture. "It's all right," he said indifferently. "Not even a lick of smoke. But," he added, looking narrowly at Janet, "if Mr Brand wishes it I will send a man I can trust to revarnish it." "Thank you," said Janet. "Here is my card," he continued, still looking at her. "Thank you," said Janet again, wondering when they would go. "You are, no doubt, a relation of the Brands?" he continued desperately. "I am a friend." "I will come and see Mr Brand about the picture," continued the young man, stammering. "May I ask you to be so kind as to tell him so?" "I will tell him," said Janet; and she became very pale. While this man was manufacturing conversation Cuckoo was dying--was dying, waiting with her eyes on the door. She turned instinctively to Stephen for help. But he had forgotten her. He was looking intently at the dead bird in the cage, was touching its sleek head with a large gentle finger. "You are well out of it, my friend," he said below his breath. "It is not good to be afraid, but it was a short agony. And it is over. You will not be afraid again. You are well out of it. No more prison bars. No more stretching of wings to fly with that may never fly. No more years of servitude for a cruel woman's whim. You are well out of it." He looked up and met Janet's eyes. "We are trespassers," he said instantly. "We have taken a mean advantage of your kindness in letting us come in. De Rivaz, I will show you a background for your next picture a few yards further on. Mr Brand knows me," he continued, producing a card in his turn. "We do business together. He is my tenant here. Will you kindly tell him I ventured to bring Mr De Rivaz into the remains of his flat to make a sketch of the effects of fire?" "I will tell him," said Janet, only half attending, and laying the card beside De Rivaz'. Would they never go? They did go immediately, Stephen peremptorily aiding the departure of the painter. When they were in the next room De Rivaz leaned up against the blackened wall, and said hoarsely: "Vanbrunt, did you see her?" "Of course I saw her."