In truth the footsteps had reached the stair-top, and now, with a thump, the door was thrust open, and Blind George appeared, his fiddle under his arm, his stick sweeping before him, and his white eye rolling at the ceiling. "Hullo!" he sung out. "Lady visitors! Or is it on'y one? 'Tain't polite to tell the lady to go away, Mag! Good afternoon, mum, good afternoon!" He nodded and grinned at upper vacancy, as one might at a descending angel; Mrs. Grimes, meanwhile, close at his elbow, preparing to get away as soon as he was clear past her. For Blind George's keenness of hearing was well known, and she had no mind he should guess her identity. "Good afternoon, mum!" the blind man repeated. "Havin' tea?" He advanced another step, and extended his stick. "What!" he added, suddenly turning. "What! Table gone? What's this? Doin' a guy? Clearin' out?" "No, George," Mag answered. "I only moved the table over to the wall. 'Ere it is--come an' feel it." She made a quick gesture over his shoulder, and Mrs. Grimes hurried out on tip-toe. But at the first movement Blind George turned sharply. "There she goes," he said, making for the door. "She don't like me. Timid little darlin'! Hullo, my dear!" he roared down the stairs. "Hullo! you never give me a kiss! I know you! Won't you say good-bye?" He waited a moment, listening intently; but Mrs. Grimes scuttled into the passage below without a word, and instantly Blind George supplemented his endearments with a burst of foul abuse, and listened again. This expedient succeeded no better than the first, and Mrs. Grimes was gone without a sound that might betray her identity. Blind George shut the door. "Who was that?" he asked. "Oh, nobody partic'lar," Mag answered with an assumption of indifference. "On'y a woman I know--name o' Jane. What d'you want?" "Ah, now you're come to it." Blind George put his fiddle and bow on the table and groped for a chair. "Fust," he went on, "is there anybody else as can 'ear? Eh? Cracks or crannies or peepholes, eh? 'Cause I come as a pal, to talk private business, I do." "It's all right, George; nobody can hear. What is it?" "Why," said the blind man, catching her tight by the arm, and leaning forward to whisper; "it's Dan, that's what it is. It's Dan!" She was conscious of a catching of the breath and a thump of the heart; and Blind George knew it too, for he felt it through the arm. "It's Dan," he repeated. "So now you know if it's what you'd like listened to." "Go on," she said. "Ah. Well, fust thing, all bein' snug, 'ere's five bob; catch 'old." He slid his right hand down to her wrist, and with his left pressed the money into hers. "All right, don't be frightened of it, it won't 'urt ye! Lord, I bet Dan 'ud do the same for me if I wanted it, though 'e is a bit rough sometimes. I ain't rich, but I got a few bob by me; an' if a pal ain't to 'ave 'em, who is? Eh? Who is?"