ener. Involuntarily he began
to follow; but at the edge of the pavement in Gower Street they
stopped, and by advancing another step or two he distinctly overheard
the continuation of their talk.

"The 'bus will take a long time."

"Bother the 'bus!" This was Eve Madeley again--if Eve it could really
be. "We'll have a cab. Look, there's a crawler in Euston Road. I've
stopped him!"

"I say, Eve, you _are_ going it!"

This exclamation from the other girl was the last sentence that fell on
Hilliard's ear. They both tripped off towards the cab which Eve's
gesture had summoned. He saw them jump in and drive away.

"I say, Eve, you _are_ going it!" Why, there his doubt was settled; the
name confirmed him in his identification. But he stood motionless with
astonishment.

They were going to a theatre, of course. And Eve spoke as if money were
of no consequence to her. She had the look, the tones, of one bent on
enjoying herself, of one who habitually pursued pleasure, and that in
its most urban forms.

Her companion had a voice of thinner quality, of higher note, which
proclaimed a subordinate character. It sounded, moreover, with the
London accent, while Eve's struck a more familiar note to the man of
the Midlands. Eve seemed to be the elder of the two; it could not be
thought for a moment that her will was guided by that of the more
trivial girl.

Eve Madeley--the meek, the melancholy, the long-suffering, the
pious--what did it all mean?

Utterly bewildered, the young man walked on without thought of
direction, and rambled dreamily about the streets for an hour or two.
He could not make up his mind whether or not to fulfil the promise of
calling to see Miss Madeley to-morrow morning. At one moment he
regretted having taken lodgings in Gower Place; at another he
determined to make use of his advantage, and play the spy upon Eve's
movements without scruple. The interest she had hitherto excited in him
was faint indeed compared with emotions such as this first glimpse of
her had kindled and fanned. A sense of peril warned him to hold aloof;
tumult of his senses rendered the warning useless.

At eleven o'clock he was sitting by his bedroom window, in darkness,
watching the house across the way.

CHAPTER VI

It was just upon midnight when Eve returned. She came at a quick walk,
and alone; the light of the street-lamps showed her figure distinctly
enough to leave the watcher in no doubt. A latchkey admitted