from picture to picture, bedpost to bedpost; now counting aloud his footsteps; now humming; only, only to keep himself from thinking. At last he took out a drawer and actually began arranging its medley of contents; ties, letters, studs, concert and theatre programmes—all higgledy-piggledy. And in the midst of this childish strategem he heard a faint sound, as of heavy water trickling from a height. He turned. A thief was in one of the candles. It was guttering out. He would be left in darkness. He turned hastily without a moment’s heed, to call for light, flung the door open and full in the flare of a lamp, illuminating her pale forehead and astonished face beneath her black straw hat, stood face to face with Ada. 

 With one swift dexterous movement he drew the door to after him, looking straight into her almost colourless steady eyes. ‘Ah,’ he said instantly, in a high faint voice, ‘the powder, thank you; yes, Mr Lawford’s powder; thank you, thank you. He must be kept absolutely quiet—absolutely. Mrs Lawford is following. Please tell her that I am here, when she returns. Mr Critchett was in, then? Thank you. Extreme, extreme silence, please.’ Again that knotted, melodramatic finger raised itself on high; and within that lean, cadaverous body the soul of its lodger quailed at this spectral boldness. But it was triumphant. The maid at once left him and went downstairs. He heard faint voices in muffled consultation. And in a moment Sheila’s silks rustled once more on the staircase. Lawford put down the lamp, and watched her deliberately close the door. 

 ‘What does this mean?’ she began swiftly, ‘I understand that—Ada tells me a stranger is here; giving orders, directions. Who is he? where is he? You bound yourself on your solemn promise not to stir till I returned. You... How can I, how can we get decently through this horrible business if you are so wretchedly indiscreet? You sent Ada to the chemist’s. What for? What for? I say.’ 

 Lawford watched his wife with an almost extraneous interest. She was certainly extremely interesting from that point of view, that very novel point of view. ‘It’s quite useless,’ he said, ‘to get in the least nervous or hysterical. I don’t care for the darkness just now. That was all. Tell the girl I am a strange doctor—Dr Simon’s new partner. You are clever at conventionalities, Sheila. Invent! I said our patient must be kept quiet—I really think he must. That is all, so far as Ada is concerned.... What on earth else are we to say?’ he broke out. ‘That, for the present to everybody, is our only possible story. It will give us what we must have—time. And next—where is the second volume of 

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