Later in the evening he strolled out in the cold starlight air. He felt so very lonely, so isolated from all the world, that only to look at the gay windows of other people was company. Every house, poor and rich, seemed to be holding its Christmas party. Quite a flood of light streamed from Mr. Gall's—from Dr. Brabazon's; all but himself were keeping Christmas. There was neither envy nor rebellion in his heart. His only thought was, "If they knew I was here alone, they would invite me in." He pictured the inside gladness, and rejoiced in it as though it were his own. "Peace on earth, and goodwill to men!" he murmured gratefully over and over again. The muslin curtains were before the dining-room windows at Dr. Brabazon's, but not the shutters. It was a large party—all the children and grandchildren. A smile crossed Mr. Henry's lips as he thought of Miss Rose in her element. Save the admiration of the college boys, there was nothing that young damsel liked so much as company. Mr. Henry halted and looked across the lawn, and by so doing apparently disturbed another watcher. A man turned round from the window, against which he had been crouched, and came away. "What do you want there?" exclaimed Mr. Henry, going forward to confront him. "Nothing to-night," was the ready answer; "I'll come another time." All in a moment, Mr. Henry recognized the voice; recognized the low-crowned hat, and the slightly lame step. He placed himself in the intruder's way. "I saw you here once before, at the back of the house then: you were looking for the entrance, you said, to deliver a letter. Did you—did you enter the house that night and take anything?" "No; _you_ did." The cool and positive assertion nearly took away Mr. Henry's presence of mind. He had spoken upon impulse. He was quite uncertain what he ought to do in the emergency, whether anything or not. Meanwhile the stranger was walking quietly away, and Mr. Henry did nothing. The following day he met Miss Brabazon with some of her relatives and a whole troop of children. She was a little behind the rest, hastening to catch them up. "Will you allow me to speak to you for one moment, Miss Brabazon?" "Well," she answered, rather impatiently, as if it were a trouble to remain. It cannot be denied that she had at times treated him with scant courtesy since the suspicion of him instilled into her mind by Trace. He told her what he had seen; that he recognised the voice to be the same; recognised the man and his lameness. Miss Brabazon's face grew white. "He was looking in at us, you say?" "Undoubtedly." "Are you coming, Emma? What are you about?" called out the party in front, who had turned and halted. "John will miss the train." "Mr. Henry, oblige me in one thing," she hurriedly said; "_don't speak of this_. I may trust you?" "Indeed you may," he answered. "You may doubt me, Miss Brabazon; you have perhaps only too good cause to doubt me; but you may at least rely upon me in this."