Taking the Third Avenue "L" she left the train at Tremont Avenue, and, after considerable difficulty, found the house indicated in the letter. Yes, there were the closed green shutters. At first, on seeing it apparently untenanted, she thought she must have made a mistake in the number, but, finding that there was no other place near by that answered the description as well, she decided to risk climbing the long flight of stairs. Arrived on the top floor, breathless from the unusual exertion, she saw a long narrow passage, and, at the end of that, a door. That, no doubt, was the place. Her heart beating violently, she went up to the door and gave the three knocks. For a moment or so there was no answer. A profound stillness reigned. Then she heard footsteps approaching, The next instant, the door was thrown open and a man's voice, which sounded somewhat familiar, told her to enter. At first when she went in, she could see nothing. All the shutters of the windows looking on the street were closed, and the only light was that which filtered through the slats. It was an ordinary, cheap flat, with no carpets on the floors and little or no furniture. On the floor, scattered here and there, were nailed-up boxes, and parts of machinery, some already crated, as if to be taken away. "So you've come! I thought you would," said a voice behind her. She turned and found herself face to face with Signor Keralio. At first she was so astonished that she was speechless. Then her instinct prompted her to turn and flee. If this man had caused her to be decoyed to this house it could be for no good purpose. But there was no way of egress. The front door was closed and locked. Not a human soul was within call. She was alone in an empty house with the one man she distrusted and feared more than any one else in the world. Making an effort to conceal her alarm, she turned and faced him boldly: "What are you doing here?" she asked. He smiled--a horrid, cynical smile she knew only too well. "Has not a man the right to be in his own home?" She started back in surprise. "This your home?" she exclaimed, glancing around at the scanty and shabby furnishings. He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, don't judge by appearances. I'm really very comfortable here. It's away from the world. I like to work undisturbed." Significantly, he added: "Then, you see, it is all my own. I am quite at home here in my own house. No one can put me out--not even you----" She raised her hand deprecatingly. "Please don't remind me of that. I have forgotten it long ago." His eyes flashed dangerously as he made a step near and exclaimed: "You have, but I have not. I have not forgotten that you put me out of your house ignominiously as one turns out a servant. I have neither forgotten nor forgiven. That is why you are here to-day." She looked at him in utter astonishment. "What do you mean?" He bowed and, with mock courtesy, waved her to a seat.