He gripped the porter's arm as he stepped noiselessly out on to the landing above, and thus lost sight of Violet. The man followed, and David, leaning over the stair-rail, saw the door of his flat close. He had never before realized how quietly that door might be closed if due care was taken. Even his keen ears heard no sound whatever. And then he heard that which sent the blood in a furious race from his brain to his heart and back to his brain again. For there came from within a cry as from some beast in pain, and, quickly following, the shriek of a woman in mortal fear. David waited for no key-turning. He dashed in the lock with his foot and entered. The first thing that greeted his disordered senses was the odor of violets which came to him, fresh and pungent, with an eery reminiscence of the night he thought he saw the spectral embodiment of dead Gwendoline. CHAPTER XXII VAN HUPFELDT MAKES AMENDS Violet's first act, on entering the hall, had been to turn on the light. She did this without giving a thought to the possibility of disturbing some prior occupant. The day's events demonstrated how completely David was worthy of faith; she was assured that he would obey the behest in her letter. How much better would it have been had she trusted intuition in the first instance! But it chanced that David had written a little note to her, on an open sheet of paper, which he pinned to the table-cloth in the dining-room in such a position that she could not fail to see it when there was a light. And this note, headed "To Violet," contained the fateful message: I have found the photograph of Strauss, or Van Hupfeldt, and with it the letter in which he announced to your sister that he was already married to another woman. DAVID. Van Hupfeldt, of course, had seen this thrice-convincing and accusing document, which proved not only that he and his secret were in David's power, but that David had expected Violet to visit his dwelling. He was sitting at the table in a stupor of rage and terror, when he fancied he heard a rustling in the outer passage. Beside himself with anger at the threatened downfall of his cardboard castle, strung to a state of high nervous tension by the horror he had of that abode of dreadful memories, he half turned toward the door, which had swung back almost into its place.