And it was rash. Here she was, a young girl, going by night to call on a young bachelor. Even though she was engaged to him, this daring was enough to make every matron in Society shriek with horror. While driving through the lighted streets, Audrey could not help thinking of what Mrs. Mellop would say did she know of this escapade; for the little widow herself was terribly afraid of Mrs. Grundy, and, although lively enough under the rose, would never have dared to act in this way. But the girl did not care. Mrs. Mellop was not likely to hear about the matter, and, even if she did, Audrey was too anxious and worried to take notice of spiteful remarks. Her whole life's happiness was at stake, and she felt that it was impossible to wait any longer for an explanation. Ralph apparently knew something, and in some way was connected with what took place on that fatal night. What that something might be Audrey dreaded to think. All the same, she was determined to know what it was. She could bear anything save suspense. On arriving in Fleet Street the girl dismissed her cab, and walked into the Gardens, wherein rose the tall pile of buildings containing Shawe's chambers. A shilling and a word to a friendly hall-porter soon procured her admission into the building, and she went up in the lift to the third floor. Knowing Ralph's number, she rang the bell, wondering if he was at home, or if her journey had been in vain. In a few minutes the door was opened, and the barrister himself appeared. For the moment, as Audrey wore a veil, he did not recognise her in the dim light of the passage. "May I inquire what you want?" he asked politely. "Ralph!" said the girl, faintly, and leant against the wall, as the strength which had kept her up was now failing her. "Good heavens, Audrey!" cried Shawe, dismay. "What are you doing here?" "Mahomet would not come to the mountain, so the mountain has to come to Mahomet," replied Audrey, with an anxious smile. "But, my dear girl, it isn't right, and you--" "Oh! never mind appearances," she interrupted feverishly. "No one knows me as I wear this thick veil. Let me in, Ralph, I have much to say to you." Shawe immediately conducted her into his sitting-room. There was nothing else to be done, as he knew that Audrey could be obstinate when she chose, and would refuse to depart without an explanation. Moreover--and this almost banished the enormity of her visit from his mind--he dreaded lest she should have learnt something which he particularly did not wish her to know. The young man felt sure that she really might have gained the forbidden knowledge, since she had dared to take such a bold step. "Sit down here, dear," he said, wheeling forward a comfortable armchair. "You look pale; let me give you a glass of wine." "No, I don't want any wine. I feel all right." "But, Audrey," said Ralph, who could scarcely conceal his dismay, "how did you escape Mrs. Mellop and your father?"