Mr. Clendon regarded him with a calm and courteous scrutiny, which, for all its courteousness, had a note of guardedness and caution. "What do you wish to ask about her?" he inquired. He unlocked the door as he put the question, and waving his long, white hand towards the room, added, "Will you not come in?" Derrick stepped into the plain, meagrely-furnished room, and took the seat to which Mr. Clendon motioned him. The old man set the parcel and violin-case on the table and, taking a chair, sat with his back to the light and waited in silence. "I am afraid I am intruding," said Derrick, still with that deferential note in his voice. "I shall be glad if you can tell me if the young lady is still living above you." "Why do you ask?" said Mr. Clendon. "Forgive me, you have not yet mentioned her name." "I don't know it," said Derrick; "but I may say that I am a friend of hers. I have every reason to be, for she did me a great service. One moment, sir"--as Mr. Clendon opened his lips--"this must seem rather extraordinary to you, but I am sure that she would be glad to see me." Mr. Clendon's eyes seemed to pierce Derrick through and through; then, removing his gaze, as if he were satisfied, Mr. Clendon said: "The name of the young lady is Grant--Celia Grant; she is not now living in the Buildings." Derrick's eyes dropped, and he drew a long breath; his disappointment was so obvious that Mr. Clendon said: "Is your business with Miss Grant one of importance, may I ask?" "The greatest importance--to me," said Derrick, who felt somehow inspired to confidence; there was something in this old man's manner and attitude, in the low, rhythmic voice, that harmonized with Derrick's mood and influenced him in a fashion strange and puzzling. "I am afraid I can't tell you the whole--well, you may call it 'story'; but I may say that I am deeply indebted to Miss Grant, and that I am very desirous of paying that debt--no; I can't do that!--but of seeing her and telling her that her kindness, her goodness, to me were not thrown away." "An amiable sentiment," said Mr. Clendon, with dignified simplicity. "No doubt, Miss Grant would be glad to hear it from your lips; but she is not here, she has gone." "I am sorry, sir," said Derrick, rising, and the genuineness of his assertion was attested by the deep sigh which accompanied it. "I don't like to ask you----" he hesitated--"but you would be rendering me a very great service, greater than you can imagine, if you would, if you could, tell me where to find her." There was a silence. Mr. Clendon sat perfectly immovable; but his eyes were searching Derrick's face, and the young man stood meeting the gaze honestly, candidly, unshrinkingly. "I do not know whether I should be doing right in giving you Miss Grant's address," said Mr. Clendon at last. "But I will admit that I am tempted to do so." "If you would----" began Derrick; but Mr. Clendon stopped him with an upraised hand.