"I can't say that I particularly want to see him," said he, as he took
stock of her in the candle-light, and was struck by the peculiar beauty
of her large blue eyes.

He felt a strong reluctance to venturing farther into this very
questionable and mysterious dwelling; and he took care to stand where he
could see both doors, the one which led farther into the house and the
one by which he had entered.

The girl heaved a little sigh, of relief apparently. And she remained
standing before him in the same attitude of listening expectancy as he
had remarked in her already.

"What are you waiting for--listening for?" asked Max sharply.

"Nothing," she answered with a start. "I'm nervous, that's all. Wouldn't
you be, if you'd been waiting two days outside an empty house with a
dead man inside it?"

Her tone was sharp and querulous. Max looked at her in bewilderment.

"Empty house!" he repeated. "What were you doing in it, then?"

And he glanced round him, assuring himself afresh by this second
scrutiny of the fact that the brick floor and the bare walls of this
scullery had been kept scrupulously clean.

The girl's white face, pale with the curious opaque pallor of the
Londoner born and bred, flushed a very little. She dropped her eyelids
guiltily.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, at last, rather
sulkily. "I was living here. Is that enough?"

It was not. And her visitor's looks told her so.

"I was living here with my grandmother," she went on hurriedly, as she
saw Max glance at the outer door and take a step toward it. "We're very
poor, and it's cheaper to live here in a house supposed to be empty than
to pay rent."

"But hardly fair to the landlord," suggested Max.

"Oh, Granny doesn't think much of landlords, and, besides, this is part
of the property which used to belong to her old master, Mr. Horne--"

"Ah!" ejaculated Max, with new interest.

The girl looked at him inquiringly.

"What do you know about him?" she asked, with eagerness.

"I have heard of him," said Max.

But the astute young Londoner was not to be put off so easily.

"You know something of the whole family, perhaps? Did you know the old
gentleman himself?"

"No."

"Do you know--his son?"

"Yes."

"Oh!" She assumed the attitude of an inquisitor immediately. "Perhaps it
was he who sent you here to-day?"

"No."

She looked long and scrutinizingly in his face, suspicious in her turn.
"Then what made you