He seemed rather a youngish man, well set up, with broad shoulders and a shrewd face. Mr Holland wondered if he should have any professional intercourse with him before the night was over. He laughed to himself as he thought of it. When he had gone some distance further he stopped and turned. The constable had vanished. Presumably his duty had led him down one of the side streets. An omnibus was coming in one direction, a couple of cabs in the other. Miss Bewicke's rooms were close at hand. Should he let the vehicles pass before he came to business? It was not yet one. He hesitated, then walked slowly past the house, noticing as he went that the front door was closed. What did it mean? Was he supposed to knock, calling upon the porter to let him in? The notion was absurd. Perhaps Miss Casata had only been playing with him after all. At the idea he laughed again. What would Miss Broad say--and think--if the woman had promised more than she could perform? He went nearly as far as Victoria, then retraced his steps. As he approached the house again Big Ben struck one. He stopped, threw away the butt of his cigar, moved to the door. There was a handle. He turned it, it yielded, the door was open. So it seemed that there was some sort of method in Miss Casata's madness. The question was, Where was the porter? Was he within? Upstairs or down? He peeped inside the door, or tried to. The street lamps did not penetrate; it was pitch dark. He entered, closing the door behind him. All was still. As he listened, seeking to peer this way and that, it seemed to him that the darkness was like a wall on every side. 'What am I to do? I shall tumble over something if I don't look out; I don't even know where the staircase is: Dare I strike a match? I wonder what professionals do under circumstances such as these. I've heard of their carrying dark lanterns, and such-like mysterious things. Unfortunately, I haven't got so far as that, though there's no knowing how far I shall get before I've done.' He moved forward, and kicked against something which made a noise. 'This will never do. I shall come to grief if I don't look out. It'll have to be a match.' He struck one; it ignited with a spluttering noise which seemed to him to resemble the explosion of a dynamite cartridge, fizzled, then went out. 'This is pretty. But I caught a glimpse of the staircase. I suppose I'll have to be content with seeing so much.' He felt his way to the stairs, presently had his hand upon the rail, then commenced to ascend. All at once he stopped. 'Hanged if I haven't forgotten on which floor her rooms are! That's a comfortable state of affairs. I can't go prowling all over the place playing a game of hide-and-seek with Miss Bewicke's rooms. There'd be trouble. Now, what am I to do?' The question was answered in rather a curious way. Looking up he gradually became conscious of what looked like a gleam of light somewhere overhead.