I had been into the North End Road to do a little shopping. I had got six eggs and a pound of tomatoes and a new tooth-brush and some other luxuries, and my hands were full. I managed to get my door open with the latch-key, but in trying to get it out again I nearly dropped those eggs. So I went through into my little sitting-room, put my parcels down carefully, and was just going back to shut the outer door and get my key, when I distinctly heard the door shut. It did not shut with a bang, as if it had been blown to; it was shut very gently and carefully, as if the object had been to avoid noise. So I was just about as frightened as a school girl in a barrel of live mice. But I went out into the passage all the same. There, in the passage behind the door, stood a tall and extremely well-dressed gentleman of about forty. His frock-coat was buttoned and fitted his good figure to perfection. In one hand he held the glossiest of silk hats, and in the other his gloves and walking-stick. His appearance was foreign; his hair was not grotesque, but it was longer than an Englishman generally wears it. He wore a pointed beard and, for a man, he was by no means ugly. He spoke good enough English, though with a slight accent. “Pardon me, mademoiselle,” he said. “I would not have taken this liberty except under great compulsion. If you will permit me to remain here for a few minutes you will be doing me a very important service. I assure you of my good intentions, and of my reluctance to annoy you in this way. Only,” he paused and shrugged his shoulders, “one is reluctant to die also. Permit me to hand you your latch-key.” I suppose I ought to have thought the man was mad, or worse. But it never occurred to me. He had not the manner of it. “Thanks,” I said, as I took the key. “You may wait a few moments if you like, and if you will tell me what is the matter. Won’t you come into the sitting-room?” “You are too kind, mademoiselle. I will explain myself fully. But may I ask, in your sitting-room should I be seen from the street?” “Not if you stand at the back of the room.” “That is very good. I shall stand at the back of the room. If you would do me one more favour, you would stand at the window and tell me who comes past.” I went to the window without a word, and turned back to him. “There is a policeman,” I said. “Ah, the London policeman. He is a charming man. I love him. And next?” “A lady in black.” “Possibly bereaved. Poor lady. But I know nothing of her. But do you not see a man of much the same appearance as myself?” “No. I mean, yes. He has just come into view. He is remarkably like you. He walks very fast.” At this the man in my room sat down and looked very white and shaky. His back-bone seemed to have been taken out and he was all huddled up. “You can’t faint in here, you know,” I said sharply. “Has he gone?” he asked hoarsely.