“Yes, sir, at Mr. Ilam’s. Mrs. Ilam’s been here this morning, sir. Don’t tell mistress as I told you, sir, for the love of heving!” Juliette was at Ilam’s! And he had twice found Juliette in the avenue during the night! And she had been strangely excited when she came to kiss him before going to bed. In something less than fifteen seconds he was rattling loudly at Ilam’s door. He received no answer. He heard no sound within the house. Wondering where the servants could be, he assaulted the door again, this time furiously. A man who was rolling a lawn in the Oriental Gardens glanced up at him. Still there was no reply. He was just deciding to break into the house by way of a window, when the door opened very suddenly, and as he was leaning upon it, he pitched forward into the hall and into the arms of old Mrs. Ilam, who, with her white cap, her black dress and her parchment face, seemed aggrieved by this entrance. “Mr. Carpentaria!” she protested, raising her shaking hands. But she was admirably and overpoweringly calm, and her extreme age prevented Carpentaria from taking the measures which he would have taken had she been younger, less imposing, less august, less like a dead woman who walked. “My sister is here, and I must see her at once.” “No, Mr. Carpentaria; your sister is not here.” Her tone startled him. It was so cold and positive. But after a few seconds he thought she was lying. “She has been here, then?” “No, Mr. Carpentaria. She has not been here.” “Really! But you have seen her this morning. You came to my house.” “No------” “Excuse me, Mrs. Ilam, I saw you from my----” “Ah!--from your balcony? You saw me cross the avenue, but you did not see me enter your house. You could not have seen that from your balcony, even if I had entered; and, as it happens, I didn’t enter.” “My servants say you came.” “Your servants probably say a good many things, Mr. Carpentaria,” she smiled humorously. The musician felt himself against a stone wall. “Can I see your son?” he asked at length of the imperturbable old woman. “My son is in bed and far from well,” said Mrs. Ilam. “Then I should like to talk to you instead,” said Carpentaria. She seemed to burst into welcome. “Come in, then, my dear man, do! Come in!” And she preceded him into the drawing-room, an apartment furnished in the richest Tottenham Court Road splendour. They sat down on either side of the hearth, where a fire was burning. He did not know exactly how to begin. “Now, Mr. Carpentaria,” she encouraged him. “Some very strange things have been happening, Mrs. Ilam,” said he. He deemed that he might as well go directly to the point. He would come to Juliette afterwards. So long as Juliette was not in Ilam’s house she was probably in no immediate danger. “To you?” asked the dame. “To me. I saw some very strange things with my own eyes last night, and within the last twelve Lours there have been two attempts to murder me.”