He took a few cautious steps toward the door. Suddenly he stopped short and held his breath. Very slowly he turned his head, and listened intently. Someone was stirring in the next room. There was a connecting door, hidden by a curtain, and even as he stood there he heard the handle shake as though it were being turned. He leaned forward and turned out the electric light. Standing there in the darkness he distinctly heard a key inserted in the lock of the hidden door. He heard it softly opened and the curtain pushed back. There was someone else in the room, someone else whom he could not see, someone else who also took an interest in the effects of the murdered man! There was an interval of several seconds--it seemed minutes--it might well have been hours. Then the stealthy footsteps came towards him. A little stiff rustle of draperies proclaimed the sex of the intruder. Without a second's warning, the electric light flashed out all over the room. The girl would have screamed, but Deane, who was prepared, leaned forward, and his hand suddenly closed over her mouth. She looked at him with dilated eyes. "You!" she exclaimed. "You!" "Good God!" he answered. "Winifred Rowan!" Their mutual surprise was something paralyzing. They drew apart and looked at one another as they might have done at ghosts. "What do you want here?" he asked hoarsely. Was it his fancy, he wondered, or did her lips curl for a moment in something like mockery? "I came to repay a debt," she whispered. "I came to find the paper which you are afraid may fall into someone else's hands. I came to search for it, but it is not here." "And I," Deane answered. "You have found it, perhaps?" she exclaimed. He shook his head. "It has gone!" "Perhaps he never had it," she whispered. Deane shook his head. He was being led away by the excitement, the tenseness of the moment,--the unexpectedness of the whole situation. "He showed it to me," he answered, "only just before that night." "Ah!" The monosyllable seemed to leave her lips dry. She moistened them with her tongue, and moved a little towards him. There was something in her face which he could not recognize. And then, before further speech was possible, they heard something which, coming so unexpectedly against such a background of silence, terrified them both. An electric bell somewhere close at hand was ringing out its sharp summons into the night. "What is that?" Deane asked quickly. "Someone is ringing from one of the numbers opposite," she answered. "Get back to your room quickly. They have heard us talking. Someone will be in here to search." "But you?" he objected. "I am safe," she answered. "I am on duty on this floor. I have something to do in the next room. Quick!"