"I regret that the circumstances which have brought me here are of so singular and complicated a character as to prevent my giving you the full explanation to which you may consider yourself entitled. I am sorry that I should have sought refuge beneath your roof as I own I did; and the more so as I am compelled to ask you another favour--permission to leave that refuge by means of the back door." She twirled round on her heels and faced him. "The back door!" "I presume there is a back door?" "Certainly--only it leads to the front." Again he bit his lip. His temper did not seem to be improving. The girl's tone, face, bearing, were instinct with scorn. "Is there no means of getting away by the back without returning to the front?" "Only by climbing a hedge and a fence on to the common." "Perhaps the feat will be within my powers--if you will allow me to try." "Allow you to try! And is it possible that you forced your way into the house on the pretence of seeking lessons in music, when your real motive was to seek an opportunity of evading pursuit by means of the back door?" "I am aware that the seeming anomaly of my conduct entitles you to think the worst of me." "Seeming anomaly!" She laughed contemptuously. "Pray, sir, permit me to lead the way--to the back door." She strode off, with her head in the air; he came after, with a brow as black as night. At the back door they paused. "I thank you for having afforded me shelter, and apologise for having sought it." She looked him up and down, as if she were endeavouring, by mere force of visual inspection, to make out what kind of a man he was. "I want to ask you a question. Answer it truthfully, if you can. Is the man in front a policeman?" He started with what seemed genuine surprise. "A policeman! Good heavens, no." "Are you sure?" "Of course I'm sure. He's very far from being a policeman--rather, if anything, the other way." What he meant to infer, she did not know; but he laughed shortly, "What makes you ask such a thing?" She was holding the door open in her hand. He had crossed the threshold and stood without. Malice--and something else--gleamed in her eyes. "Because," she answered, "I wondered if you were a thief." With that she slammed the door in his face and turned the key. Then, slipping into the kitchen which was on her left, keeping the door on the jar, remaining well in the shadow, she watched his proceedings through the window. For a moment he stayed where she had left him standing, as if rooted to the spot. Then, with an exaggerated courtesy, taking off his hat, he bowed to the door. Turning, he marched down the garden path, his tall figure seeming more gigantic than ever as she noted how straight he held himself. In a twinkling he was over the fence and hedge. Once on the other side, he shook his fist at Clover Cottage. The watcher in the kitchen clenched her teeth as she perceived the gesture.