"Oh, you're mistaken. Why should I be?" She gave vent to a little hysterical laugh. I kissed her again, and told her to "cheer up." Then I left her. I did not dare trust myself longer in her presence, lest she should, after all, persuade me to change my mind. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. A SECRET IS DISCLOSED. The night was still--clear and starlit. Between two and three in the morning is the one hour when, in London, the very houses seem to slumber, save in a few districts, such as Fleet Street, Covent Garden and its purlieus, where night and day are alike-- equally active, equally feverish--those streets which never sleep. I wore an old suit, a golf cap, shoes with rubber soles, and in my jacket-pocket carried an electric torch. I had decided not to take a pistol. After all, I was not bent on mischief. Also I was going, as I supposed, among friends. Even if Sir Charles were to turn upon me I could not believe he would do me an injury, in spite of my beloved's warning. He and I had known each other such a long time. Vera, finding that nothing would dissuade me, had ended by giving me the bunch of keys which I had forgotten she still possessed--the keys I had taken from old Taylor's pocket. "If you are determined to do this mad thing, Dick," she had said to me, kissing me fondly, "you may as well get in with the key, instead of house-breaking." On the bunch were the key which would unlock the iron gate, and the one of the little door. This greatly simplified matters, for there were no bolts on the little door, as there were upon the front door and on the tradesmen's door. The light appeared in the same window on the first floor at exactly twenty minutes past two. Standing in Belgrave Street with my constable friend, who was now on duty, I saw it flicker suddenly. Without further delay we both went round Crane's Alley. Nobody was about. Not a sound anywhere. Noiselessly I unlocked the iron gate, then the little door... "Good luck, sir," the policeman whispered, as I crept into the dark, low-roofed passage. "And if you want any help, remember you've got the whistle." There were two little stone-walled cellar-passages, and I took the one to the right. Before I had gone a yard I uttered an exclamation. I was up against a great veil of grey cobwebs which hung from everywhere and was stretched right across the stone passage. So thick were they that I had to push into them to make my way along. How I regretted I had not brought a stick! Suddenly something damp creepy, large, horrible, ran across my face, then another, and another. Ugh! My blood ran cold at their touch, for I hate spiders.