l I've told Mrs. Maldon."

"But if her's asleep?"

"I must waken her. I couldn't think of letting you go to the
police-station without letting her know--after what she said this
morning."

Rachel waited. Mr. Batchgrew glanced aside.

"Here! Come here!" said Mr. Batchgrew in a different tone. The fact
was that, put to the proof, he dared not, for all his autocratic
habit, openly disobey the injunction of the benignant, indifferent,
helpless Mrs. Maldon. "Come here!" he repeated coarsely. Rachel
obeyed, shamefaced despite herself. Batchgrew shut the door. "Now,"
he said grimly, "what's your secret? Out with it. I know you and her's
got a secret. What is it?"

Rachel sat down on the sofa, hid her face in her hands, and startled
both men by a sob. She wept with violence. And then through her tears,
and half looking up, she cried out passionately: "It's all your fault.
Why did you leave the money in the house at all? You know you'd no
right to do it, Mr. Batchgrew!"

The councillor was shaken out of his dignity by the incredible
impudence of this indictment from a chit like Rachel. Similar
experiences, however, had happened to him before; for, though as a
rule people most curiously conspired with him to keep up the fiction
that he was sacred, at rare intervals somebody's self-control would
break down, and bitter, inconvenient home truths would resound in
the ear of Thomas Batchgrew. But he would recover himself in a few
moments, and usually some diversion would occur to save him--he was
nearly always lucky. A diversion occurred now, of the least expected
kind. The cajoling tones of Mrs. Tams were heard on the staircase.

"Nay, ma'am! Nay, ma'am! This'll never do. Must I go on my bended
knees to ye?"

And then the firm but soft voice of Mrs. Maldon--

"I must speak to Mr. Batchgrew. I must have Mr. Batchgrew here at
once. Didn't you hear me call and call to you?"

"That I didn't, ma'am! I was beating the feather bed in the back
bedroom. Nay, not a step lower do you go, ma'am, not if I lose me job
for it."

Thomas Batchgrew and Louis were already out in the hall. Half-way down
the stairs stood Mrs. Maldon, supporting herself by the banisters and
being supported by Mrs. Tams. She was wearing her pink peignoir with
white frills at the neck and wrists. Her black hair was loose on her
shoulders like the hair of a young girl. Her pallid and heavily seamed
features with the deep shining eyes trembled gently, as if in