The doctor ran down-stairs and let himself out of the house. Nurse Ives went softly back to the room where the child who was supposed to be dead lay. Having entered, she locked the door. She remained in the room for a few minutes and then went down-stairs. The footman was in the hall. “Are you going out, nurse?” he asked. “Yes; but I shall be back in an hour.” “We shall all be glad to retire early to-night,” said the man. “I, for one, am dead tired.” “Of course you are, and you need not sit up. I am leaving to-night, but not yet.” “Then, of course, one of us must stay up to see you out?” “That is not necessary. If you leave the door on the latch I shall let myself out, and I have a latch-key with me. I have a little business to transact now, but will be back again. I shall desire a cab to call for me when I am ready. Go to bed, Thomas. I can manage for myself.” The man nodded, and the nurse left the house. She hailed a cab, and drove straight to her own rooms in Goodge Street. She made certain preparations there, and then left the house. The same cabby brought her back to Ashley Mansions. “I shall want you to wait,” she said to the man. “I shall be leaving very soon.” She had been absent nearly an hour, and it was now close on twelve o’clock. When Nurse Ives came in again the house was quiet; Barbara, worn out, had retired to her own room. The servants, only too glad of the early hours after the late excitement, had retired to theirs. Nurse Hester sat with the sick woman. Mrs. Pelham was very restless. Sleep would not visit her. She insisted on holding Nurse Hester’s hand, and the nurse could not leave her for a moment. Nurse Ives knew exactly what was likely to take place, and had made her plans accordingly. At midnight she lifted the boy from the bed, and opening the wicker trunk, laid him in it. He was a little fellow and very slender; the trunk was long, and the boy fitted in comfortably. Having done this, Nurse Ives stole down-stairs on tiptoe and motioned the cabby to leave his horse and enter the house. “I want you to move a trunk down,” she said. “Will your horse remain quiet while you are away?” “Oh, yes; there’s no fear of him,” answered the man. “You haven’t much luggage, have you? “No, only the one trunk, and it is not specially heavy. Go up-stairs as quietly as you can.” The man did so. He lifted the trunk on his shoulder. “It’s a queer shape,” he said to the woman. “It’s a very convenient shape,” she answered. “Skirts of dresses do not get creased in a trunk like that. I had it made on purpose.” The man hoisted it on his shoulder and went quietly down-stairs.