slot-meters, and
she accepted the discovery with the calm of the fatalist. She
considered. Should she go out and get change from the obliging
tobacconist at the corner or should she take a chance?

"If I don't go out you will," she said addressing the light, and it
winked ominously.

She opened the door and stepped into the passage, and as she did so the
lights behind her went out. There was one small lamp on the landing, a
plutocratic affair independent of shilling meters. She closed the door
behind her and walked to the head of the stairs. As she passed No. 4,
she noted the door was ajar and she stopped. She did not wish to risk
meeting the drunkard, and she turned back.

Then she remembered the doctor, he lived in No. 8. Usually when he was
at home there was a light in his hall which showed through the fanlight.
Now, however, the place was in darkness. She saw a card on the door and
walking closer she read it in the dim light.

+---------------------------------+
| |
| |
| BACK AT 12. WAIT. |
| |
| |
+---------------------------------+

He was out and was evidently expecting a caller. So there was nothing
for it but to risk meeting the exuberant Mr. Beale. She flew down the
stairs and gained the street with a feeling of relief.

The obliging tobacconist, who was loquacious on the subject of Germans
and Germany, detained her until her stock of patience was exhausted; but
at last she made her escape. Half-way across the street she saw the
figure of a man standing in the dark hallway of the chambers, and her
heart sank.

"Matilda, you're a fool," she said to herself.

Her name was not Matilda, but in moments of self-depreciation she was
wont to address herself as such.

She walked boldly up to the entrance and passed through. The man she saw
out of the corner of her eye but did not recognize. He seemed as little
desirous of attracting attention as she. She thought he was rather stout
and short, but as to this she was not sure. She raced up the stairs and
turned on the landing to her room. The door of No. 4 was still ajar--but
what was much more important, so was her door. There was no doubt about
it, between the edge of the door and the jamb there was a g