lips. She had a feeling as, back again upon the arm of the chair, with an effort she held her breath, that someone had heard the cry which came from her lips. She peered about her; it was impossible to make things out, to see what was there and what wasn't. She might have been surrounded by a dozen people without her eyes even hinting that a soul was there. There was something which did her better service than her eyes—perhaps it was her ears—some subtle sense which she would have been unable to define. She felt sure that she had been overheard by—she did not know by whom or by what—by someone, something. It might have been a man, or a woman, or an animal—a dog. It could scarcely have been the latter; it is not the canine habit to preserve such silence when the sense of hearing is assailed. It was something human. She was not alone; someone else was with her in the hall. She adopted the simplest way of finding out. She asked: "Who's there?" No answer. She had a feeling that her question had put the unseen person on his—or her—guard; that someone had withdrawn farther from her, and was awaiting a chance to effect a safe retreat. She was persuaded that there had been a just audible movement, that someone had been quite close to her, and had drawn away. While she waited, with straining ears and bated breath, uncertain whether to speak again or what to do—her foot was causing her such pain that walking was beyond her strength—there came what was undoubtedly a sound of an unmistakable kind. Someone had come hastening into the hall from the direction of the suite of rooms which was on the other side, someone who was pressed for time. Although he moved with a curious noiselessness, as if his feet had been shod with velvet, she felt sure that it was a man. She doubted if he was able to see any better than she could; the fashion of his progress suggested it. He seemed to be making for the side of the hall on which she was, and to be following her example by coming into contact with most of the objects which he met upon his way. She heard him mutter something beneath his breath which might have been an oath. She was sure it was a man. Plainly he was as blind as a bat; he was floundering closer and closer; he was nearly on her, came into actual contact with the chair on which she was perched. That was too much. She had to speak. "Who are you? Take care—oh!" This last was a cry of pain wrung from her much against her will. The chair on which she was resting had received a sudden push; she was precipitated forward, on to the bad foot. The result was anguish; her feelings escaped her in spite of herself. Whoever had done it was evidently as much taken by surprise as she was. There was a muttered, distinctly masculine ejaculation. Then, as she continued to 

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