The next moment he had undone the door and was down the front steps and in the solitude of Bycars Lane. He ran up the street, full of the one desire to accomplish his errand and be back again in the spare bedroom alone. The notes were utterly safe where they lay, and yet--astounding events might happen. Was it not a unique coincidence that on this very night and no other his aunt should fall ill, and that as a result Rachel should take him unawares at the worst moment of his dilemma? And further, could it be the actual fact, as he had been wildly guessing only a few minutes earlier, that his aunt had at last missed the notes? Could it be that it was this discovery which had upset her and brought on an attack?... An attack of what? He swerved at the double into Park Road, which was a silent desert watched over by forlorn gaslamps. He saw the yellow gate. The yellow gate clanked after him. He searched in the deep shadow of the porch for the button of the night bell, and had to strike a match in order to find it. He rang; waited and waited, rang again; waited; rang a third time, keeping his finger hard on the button. Then arose and expired a flickering light in the hall of the house. "That'll do! That'll do! You needn't wear the bell out." He could hear the irritated accents through the glazed front door. A dim figure in a dressing-gown opened. "Are you Dr. Yardley?" Louis gasped between rapid breaths. "What is it?" The question was savage. With his extraordinary instinctive amiability Louis smiled naturally and persuasively. "You're wanted at Mrs. Maldon's, Bycars. Awfully sorry to disturb you." "Oh!" said the dressing-gown in a changed, interested tone. "Mrs. Maldon's! Right. I'll follow you." "You'll come at once?" Louis urged. "I shall come at once." The door was curtly closed. "So that's how you call a doctor in the middle of the night!" thought Louis, and ran off. He had scarcely deciphered the man's face. The return, being chiefly downhill, was less exhausting. As he approached his aunt's house he saw that there was a light on the ground floor as well as in the front bedroom. The door opened as he swung the gate. The lobby gas had been lighted. Rachel was waiting for him. Her hair was tied up now. The girl looked wise, absurdly so. It was as though she was engaged in the act of being equal to the terrible occasion. "He's coming," said Louis. "You've been frightfully quick!" said she, as if triumphantly. She appeared to glory in the crisis. He passed within as she held the door. He was frantic to rush upstairs to the fireplace in his room; but he had to seem deliberate. "And what next?" he inquired. "Well, nothing. It'll be best for you to sit in your bedroom for a bit. That's the only place where there's a fire--and it's rather chilly at this time of night." "A fire?" he repeated, incredulous and yet awe-struck.