Mavis went from the room, her heart beating with fear of discovery. For the time being, she had forgotten the insult offered her by the man she had left: her one thought was to put as great a space as possible between this accursed house and herself in the least imaginable time. She scarcely knew what she did. She tore off the pearls, the head circlet with its shining emerald, bracelets and other costly gee-gaws, and threw them on the table; she was glad to be rid of them; their touch meant defilement. She kicked off the grey slippers, tore off the silk stockings, and substituted for these her worn, down-at-heel shoes and stockings. There was no time to change her frock, so she pulled the cloak over her evening clothes; she meant to return these latter to their owner the first thing in the morning. She turned her back on the room, that such a short while back she had looked upon as her own, ran down the stairs and joined the man, who was impatiently waiting for her on the landing. Without exchanging a word, they descended to the ground floor. The front door was in sight and Mavis's heart was beating high with hope, when Mrs Hamilton, who looked tired and heated, stood in the passage. "Where are you going?" she asked. "Out for the evening," replied Williams. "What time shall I expect you back?" she asked of Mavis. "I'm not coming back," replied Mavis. "I wish I'd never come." "Then--?" "Yes," interrupted Williams, anticipating Mrs Hamilton's question. "You believe and trust a notorious seducer like this man?" asked Mrs Hamilton of Mavis. "Whatever I am, I ain't that," cried Williams. "To a man who has ruined more girls than anyone else in London?" continued Mrs Hamilton. "I solemnly warn you that if you go with that man it means your ruin--ruin body and soul." Mrs Hamilton spoke in such a low, earnest voice, that Mavis, who now recollected Mr Williams's previous behaviour to her, was inclined to waver. Mrs Hamilton saw her advantage and said: "Since you disbelieve in me, the least you can do is to go upstairs and take off my clothes." "She'll do nothing of the kind," cried out the man. "He doesn't want to lose his prey," Mrs Hamilton remarked to Mavis, who was inclined to falter a little more. Perhaps Williams saw the weakening of the girl's resolution, for he made a last desperate effort on her behalf. "Look here," he said, "I'm not a sneak, but, if you don't own up and let Miss Devereux go, I'll fetch in the police." "You'll what?" cried Mrs Hamilton. "Fetch in the police. Not to Mrs Hamilton, but to Mrs Bridgeman, Mrs Knight, or Mrs Davis." Mrs Hamilton's face went white; she looked intently at the man to see if he were in earnest. His resolute eyes convinced her that he was. The next moment, a torrent of foul words fell from her lips. She abused Mavis; she reviled the man; she accused the two of sin, the while she made use of obscene, filthy phrases, which caused Mavis to put her hands to her ears.