They were lucky in the passing of a tradesman’s boy known to Audrey; he not only took the letters to the post for them, but fulfilled for them certain small commissions which resulted in their being able to enjoy, in the little back-room to which they retreated after they had made all secure for the night, a somewhat casual but none the less welcome meal of slices of boiled ham, penny rolls, cream tarts, baked potatoes and bottled stout these being the various viands selected by the boy on being told to bring back “anything he could get” in the way of food and drink. So uneasy and suspicious were the two young people, that they took it in turns to rest on the sofa, while the other sat up in a chair by the fire. No amount of prowling about the first floor, of peering into corners and listening at doors, sufficed to render them perfectly at ease in their minds while on the premises where things so uncanny had already happened. When morning came it was resolved that the presence of Gerard should, if possible, be kept a secret from every one but the woman who swept out the rooms and lit the fires: she was old, deaf and uncommunicative, and could be trusted not to chatter. Within an hour of the beginning of work for the day, Audrey, who was on the watch, heard a hansom dash up to the door, and met the two young Angmerings at the head of the staircase. Both were surprised to find themselves welcomed with effusion by Audrey, who forgot all possible causes of disagreement in the joy of finding that they had responded so quickly to Gerard’s appeal. “I--I thought--Is Gerard here?” asked Edgar, as he shook hands. Audrey put her finger on her lip. “Yes, but we are keeping the fact as quiet as we can. He wants to see you both. Come in here.” She glanced as she spoke at the door of the little room. It was ajar; a hand pulled it gently open and Gerard peeped out. In another moment the young Angmerings were shut in the room with their cousin, and his wife, who kept watch near the door while the story was rapidly and succinctly unfolded to the astonished young men. Whatever they might think, whether they believed in Audrey’s complete innocence and in Candover’s guilt or not, they both took the affair as a huge “lark,” and entered with zest into the part which they were required to play. “In the first place,” explained Gerard, “we want advice. Now we don’t dare leave these premises together, or we should never be allowed to get in again; and we daren’t let one of us go without the other, as we don’t feel ourselves to be in particularly safe quarters.” “What are you afraid of?” said Geoffrey.