tting things right which had been
wrong through many years.

2. XI. THE IMAGE PERSISTS

It was dark when the four-wheeled cab wherein he had brought Avice from
the station stood at the entrance to the pile of flats of which Pierston
occupied one floor--rarer then as residences in London than they are
now. Leaving Avice to alight and get the luggage taken in by the porter
Pierston went upstairs. To his surprise his floor was silent, and on
entering with a latchkey the rooms were all in darkness. He descended
to the hall, where Avice was standing helpless beside the luggage, while
the porter was outside with the cabman.

'Do you know what has become of my servants?' asked Jocelyn.

'What--and ain't they there, saur? Ah, then my belief is that what I
suspected is thrue! You didn't leave your wine-cellar unlocked, did you,
saur, by no mistake?'

Pierston considered. He thought he might have left the key with his
elder servant, whom he had believed he could trust, especially as the
cellar was not well stocked.

'Ah, then it was so! She's been very queer, saur, this last week or two.
O yes, sending messages down the spakin'-tube which were like madness
itself, and ordering us this and that, till we would take no notice at
all. I see them both go out last night, and possibly they went for a
holiday not expecting ye, or maybe for good! Shure, if ye'd written,
saur, I'd ha' got the place ready, ye being out of a man, too, though
it's not me duty at all!'

When Pierston got to his floor again he found that the cellar door was
open; some bottles were standing empty that had been full, and many
abstracted altogether. All other articles in the house, however,
appeared to be intact. His letter to his housekeeper lay in the box as
the postman had left it.

By this time the luggage had been sent up in the lift; and Avice, like
so much more luggage, stood at the door, the hall-porter behind offering
his assistance.

'Come here, Avice,' said the sculptor. 'What shall we do now? Here's a
pretty state of affairs!'

Avice could suggest nothing, till she was struck with the bright thought
that she should light a fire.

'Light a fire?--ah, yes.... I wonder if we could manage. This is an odd
coincidence--and awkward!' he murmured. 'Very well, light a fire.'

'Is this the kitchen, sir, all mixed up with the parlours?'

'Yes.'

'Then I think I can do all that's wanted here for a bit; at any rate,
till you can get help, s