“Now I begin to recollect,” he said; “I was at Mimpriss’s, and walked along, because it was his way home, with--a man I met: and then--yes, I’m beginning to remember. In a little time I shall have it all clear.” He fixed his eyes upon her again under the shelter of his hand. How they seemed to burn into her! She sat quite still, unnaturally still, with her eyes fixed upon her work. Oh, how they burned, those eyes! they seemed to make holes in her, to reach her heart. But this was as far as he had gone as yet. He was beginning to see her in the shops, on the pavement by his side--talking to him. Under the cover of his hand he kept asking her, “What more? What more?” “You don’t remember with whom it was you were walking?” said Gussy breathlessly. “Hush, I’m thinking--it is coming, very vaguely, like a thing in the dark.” “Janet, perhaps you saw what sort of man it was with whom Mr. Meredith was walking?” “No,” said Janet. She was unable to form more than this one word: and she never looked at him, but stumbled on at her work, steadying her hands with a tremendous effort. He saw well enough the perturbation in which she was, though none of the others might remark it; and she saw how he looked at her. Now the smile broke out again, more malicious than ever. “No,” said Meredith, “I don’t suppose Miss Summerhayes would see him. I must have met him some time after she saw me at the shop. But I begin to get hold of it all. It was a dark night, and the lamps were lighted. My friend must surely have left me----” “I was about to say,” cried Gussy, “he could not have been with you there, or he must have come in with you, and told us how it was.” “There was nobody with me, then?” “Nobody, except the man who picked you up and the policeman, who is always coming back to say he’s on the track of the murderer.” “The murderer! That gives one an uncomfortable conviction, as if one had really been killed. I have a kind of vision of a face. When does this policeman generally come? I should like to have a talk with him. He might throw some light upon my very dim recollection.” “Dolff is the one who sees him when he comes,” said Mrs. Harwood. “I did not, myself, feel equal to it; and Dolff seemed the right person.” “Ah, yes; and so kind of him,” said Meredith. “I have been surrounded with true kindness. Dolff, please come and tell me--what does the policeman say?” “Not much,” said Dolff, from the dark corner in which he had established himself. Meredith turned half round towards him. “Is the fellow any good?” “No good at all,” cried Dolff. “He has always a new cock-and-bull story. He is no good.” “And none of you in the house saw anything?” Meredith said.