Lights of malice and mockery woke up in Meredith’s eyes. He anticipated a great deal of fun from the appearance of the witness, who, no doubt, would collapse and come to nothing when inquired into. Meredith saw nothing but sport in this unthought-of catastrophe. He had something of the feeling of the excited boy who has a cat or a dog to torture. He knew how to tickle Dolff up in the tenderest places, to keep him in a perpetual ferment of alarm, to hold endless threats over him; and to watch his writhings would be all the more fun that the fellow would deserve it all, and more than that if he got his due. Thus delightedly pursuing his revenge, Meredith missed the moment when Dolff withdrew. But Janet saw it, with a terror impossible to describe. She could not go after him or advise him. Since these miseries had happened, it had become her charge to make the tea, and there she sat, conspicuous even in the fading light, unable to budge. She saw the unhappy young man steal out, and she knew that all kinds of desperate resolves must be in his mind. He would not have the courage to face it out. He would go away and he would conceal himself--do something to heighten suspicion and make every guess into certainty. And she could not go after him to warn him--to implore him to stand fast! The tortures which Meredith had imagined with such pleasure had begun in Janet’s breast. Dolff got out into the hall in a condition impossible to describe--his limbs were limp with misery and fear. Great drops of perspiration hung upon his forehead. He went blindly to snatch a hat from the stand; then took his coat, for he was cold with mental agony, and struggled into it. While he was doing this, Vicars suddenly appeared by him, he could not tell how, and laid a hand on his shoulder, which made Dolff jump. He darted back with an oath, and would have that moment turned and fled had not Vicars caught his arm again. “Mr. Dolff, what’s up? For goodness’ sake don’t fly out like this. There’s one of those d----d policemen watching on the other side of the road.” Dolff stared wildly in Vicars’s face. “Let me go,” he said. “I must go; I don’t care where.” “What’s up?” said Vicars. “You’re in some row, Mr. Dolff?” “Don’t you know?” said Dolff, wildly. “That man’s coming back. If he comes back before I’m gone, it’s all up with me, Vicars. Get out of my way. I’ll go--by the garden door.” “And show yourself to all the women,” said Vicars, “who’ll tell the first word, ‘Oh, he’s in the garden.’ Mr. Dolff, is it life or death?”