Stewart had seen the arms of many women, but never a pair so rounded and graceful and beautiful as those at this moment disclosed to him. Admirable too was the way in which the head was set upon the lovely neck, and the way the neck itself merged into the shoulders--the masterpiece of a great artist, so he told himself. "I wonder if there is a shutter to that window?" she asked, suddenly, starting round toward it. "If there is, you would better close it. Somebody might pass--besides, I do not care to sleep on the ground-floor of a strange house in a strange town, with an open window overlooking the street!" "I'll see," said Stewart, and pulling back the curtains, stuck out his head. "Yes--there's a shutter--a heavy wooden one." He pulled it shut and pushed its bolt into place. "There; now you're safe!" She motioned him quickly to lower the window, and this he did as noiselessly as possible. "Was there anyone outside?" she asked, in a low tone. He shook his head. The narrow street upon which the window opened had seemed quite deserted--but the shadows were very deep. "I wish you would open the bags," she said, in her natural voice. "I shall have to improvise a night-dress of some sort." Although he knew quite well that the words had been uttered for foreign consumption, as it were, Stewart found that his fingers were trembling as he undid the straps and threw back the lids, for he was quite unable to guess what would be the end of this strange adventure or to what desperate straits they might be driven by the pressure of circumstance. "There you are," he said, and sat down and watched her. She knelt on the floor beside the bags and turned over their contents thoughtfully, laying to one side a soft outing shirt, a traveling cap, a lounging coat, a pipe and pouch of tobacco, a handful of cigars, a pair of trousers, a belt, three handkerchiefs, a pair of scissors. She paused for a long time over a pair of Stewart's shoes, but finally put them back with a shake of the head. "No," said Stewart, "I agree with you. Shoes are not necessary to a sleeping costume. But then neither is a pipe." She laughed. "You will find that the pipe is very necessary," she said, and rising briskly, stepped to the wash-stand and gave face and hands and arms a scrubbing so vigorous that she emerged, as it seemed to Stewart, more radiant than ever. Then she glanced into the pitcher with an exclamation of dismay. "There! I have used all the water! I wonder if our landlady has gone to bed?" Catching up the pitcher, she crossed rapidly to the door and opened it. There was no one there, and Stewart, following with the candle, saw that the hall was empty. They stood for a moment listening, but not a sound disturbed the stillness of the house.