again. She was half sick of thoughts that tore at her nerves and
lacerated her heart. To herself Jenny felt that it was no good--crying
was no good, thinking was no good, loving and sympathising and giving
kindness--all these things were in this mood as useless as one another.
There was nothing in life but the endless sacrifice of human spirit.

"Oh!" she groaned passionately. "If only something would happen. I don't
care _what!_ But something ... something new ... exciting. Something
with a bite in it!"

She stared at the kicking clock, which every now and again seemed to
have a spasm of distaste for its steady record of the fleeting seconds.
"Wound up to go all day!" she thought, comparing the clock with herself
in an angry impatience.

And then, as if it came in answer to her poignant wish for some untoward
happening, there was a quick double knock at the front door of the
Blanchard's dwelling, and a sharp whirring ring at the push-bell below
the knocker. The sounds seemed to go violently through and through the
little house in rapid waves of vibrant noise.

PART TWO

NIGHT

CHAPTER V: THE ADVENTURE

i

So unexpected was this interruption of her loneliness that Jenny was for
an instant stupefied. She took one step, and then paused, dread firmly
in her mind, paralysing her. What could it be? She could not have been
more frightened if the sound had been the turning of a key in the lock.
Were they back already? Had her hope been spoiled by some accident?
Surely not. It was twenty minutes to nine. They were safe in the theatre
by now. Oh, she was afraid! She was alone in the house--worse than
alone! Jenny cowered. She felt she could not answer the summons.
Tick-tick-tick said the clock, striking across the silences. Again Jenny
made a step forward. Then, terrifying her, the noise began once
more--the thunderous knock, the ping-ping-ping-whir of the bell....

Wrenching her mind away from apprehensiveness she moved quickly to the
kitchen door and into the dimly-lighted dowdy passage-way. Somewhere
beyond the gas flicker and the hat-stand lay--what? With all her
determination she pushed forward, almost running to the door. Her hand
hovered over the little knob of the lock: only horror of a renewal of
that dreadful sound prompted her to open the door quickly. She peered
into the darkness, faintly silhouetted against the wavering light of the
gas. A man stood there.

"Evening, miss," said the man.