them all
chattering and washing in a cheerful way, so, after a word or two of
commendation, she returned to the sitting-room. Here she played a game
of patience, arranged the tea-things although it was yet early, and
finally settled down to one of Mrs. Henry Wood's interesting novels. She
was quite alone and enjoyed the solitude. The wash-house was so far
away, at the end of the yard, that the loud voices of the workers could
not be heard. The road before Rose Cottage was not a popular
thoroughfare, and it was rarely that anyone passed. Out of the window
Sylvia could see a line of raw, red-brick villas, and sometimes a spurt
of steam, denoting the presence of the railway station. Also, she saw
the green fields and the sere hedges with the red berries, giving
promise of a hard winter. The day was sunny but cold, and there was a
feeling of autumnal dampness in the air. Deborah had lighted a fire
before she went, that her mistress might be comfortable, so Sylvia sat
down before this and read for an hour, frequently stopping to think of
Paul, and wonder if he would come at the appointed hour of four or
earlier. What with the warmth, and the reading, and the dreaming, she
fell into a kind of doze, from which she was awakened by a sharp and
peremptory knock. Wondering if her lover had unexpectedly arrived,
though she did not think he would rap in so decided a manner, Sylvia
rubbed the sleep out of her pretty eyes and hurried to the door. On the
step she came face to face with Miss Maud Krill.

"Do you know me, Miss Norman?" asked Maud, who was smiling and suave,
though rather white in the face.

"Yes. You came with your mother to Gwynne Street," replied Sylvia,
wondering why she had been honored with a visit.

"Quite so. May I have a few minutes' conversation with you?"

"Certainly." Sylvia saw no reason to deny this request, although she did
not like Miss Krill. But it struck her that something might be learned
from that young woman relative to the murder, and thought she would have
something to tell Paul about when he arrived. "Will you walk in,
please," and she threw open the sitting-room door.

"Are you quite alone?" asked Maud, entering, and seating herself in the
chair near the fire.

"Quite," answered Sylvia, stiffly, and wondering why the question was
asked; "that is, the four washerwomen are in the place at the back. But
Mrs. Tawsey went to your house to see her sister."

"She arrived before I left," said Mau