'Ah! There's something up about Mr. Gray. People are coming to inquire for him. First, it was a young gentleman: very affable he was--and free with his money--most likely other people's money. He wanted to know a good deal about Mr. Gray--more than I could tell him--wanted to know how often he came, and what he was like when he did come--and would I tell him all I knew. He went to the old laundress afterwards.--Then it was a little old man--I know him by sight--uses the _Salutation_ Parlour of an evening--he wanted to know all about Mr. Gray too. No half-crown in that quarter, though. He's been spying and watching for him--goes and hides up the passage on the other side of the Square. Kind of a spider he is. He's watching him for no good, I'll bet. Perhaps the young lady wants to find out about him too.--Joe, there's something up at No. 22. The old gentleman isn't in his chambers, I believe. She'll come out again presently, and it'll be: "Oh, Mr. Policeman, could you very kindly tell me how I can find Mr. Edmund Gray?" With a shilling perhaps, and perhaps not. I wonder what she wants with Mr. Edmund Gray? Sometimes these old chaps break out in the most surprising manner. Joe, if you ever go into the Service, you'll find the work hard and the pay small. But there's compensation in learnin' things. If you want to know human nature, go into the Force.' 'There's old Mr. Langhorne, up at the top.' 'So there is. But no young lady wants to see that poor old chap. He's got no friends, young nor old--no friends and no money. Just now, he's terrible hard up. Took a shillin' off o' me last Sunday to get a bit of dinner with. Fine thing--isn't it, Joe?--to be a gentleman and a barrister all your life, isn't it--and to end like that? Starvation in a garret--eh?-- Look out. She will be coming down directly.' But she did not come down. Two hours and more passed, and she did not come down. The visitor was Elsie Arundel. She walked up the stairs to the second floor. Here she stopped. There was a black door, closed, on the right of her, and another black door, closed, on the left of her. On the lintel of one was the name of Mr. F. W. Carstone. On the lintel of the other was that of Mr. Edmund Gray. Elsie knocked with her parasol at the latter door. There was no reply. 'The old laundress,' she murmured, 'told me that Saturday afternoon was my best chance of finding him. I will wait.' She sat down with hesitation on the stairs leading to the third floor--they were not too clean--and waited.