“They’re to be demolished and model tenements built,” he said briefly. A man muffled in a fur overcoat came up and took Tressa’s hand and kissed it. She smiled palely at Benton, spoke of Yulun, wished him happiness. While she was yet speaking Selden approached and bent over her gloved hand. She spoke to him very sweetly of Sansa, expressing pleasure at the prospect of seeing her again in the body. “The Seldens and ourselves have adjoining apartments at the Ritz,” said Benton. “We have reserved a third suite for you and Victor.” She inclined her lovely head, gravely, then turned to Recklow, saying that she was ready. “It makes no difference which front door I unlock,” he said. “All these tenements are connected by human rat-holes and hidden runways leading from one house to another.... How many men do you want?” “I want you four men,—nobody else.” Recklow led the way up a snow-covered stoop, drew a key from his pocket, fitted it, and pulled open the door. A musty chill struck their faces as they entered the darkened and empty hallway. Involuntarily every man drew his pistol. “I must ask you to do exactly what I tell you to do,” she said calmly. “Certainly,” said Recklow, caressing his white moustache and striving to pierce the gloom with his keen eyes. Then Tressa took her husband’s hand. “Come,” she said. They mounted the stairway together; and the three others followed with pistols lifted. There was a vague grey light on the second floor; the broken rear shutters let it in. As though she seemed to know her way, the girl led them forward, opened a door in the wall, and disclosed a bare, dusty room in the next house. Through this she stepped; the others crept after her with weapons ready. She opened a second door, turned to the four men. “Wait here for me. Come only when I call,” she whispered. “For God’s sake take me with you,” burst out Cleves. “In God’s name stay where you are till you hear me call your name!” she said almost breathlessly. Then, suddenly she turned, swiftly retracing her steps; and they saw her pass through the first door and disappear into the first house they had entered. A terrible silence fell among them. The sound of her steps on the bare boards had died away. There was not a sound in the chilly dusk. Minute after minute dragged by. One by one the men peered fearfully at Cleves. His visage was ghastly and they could see his pistol-hand trembling. Twice Recklow looked at his wrist watch. The third time he said, unsteadily: “She has been gone three-quarters of an hour.” Then, far away, they heard a heavy tread on the stairs. Nearer and nearer came the footsteps. Every pistol was levelled at the first door as a man’s bulky form darkened it. “It’s one of my men,” said Recklow in a voice like a low groan. “Where on earth is Mrs. Cleves?” “I came to tell you,” said the agent, “Mrs. Cleves came out of the first house nearly an hour ago. She got into the coupé and told the driver to go to the Ritz.”