ce and no coal-scuttle, so I took off my right boot
and put it in the bottom drawer of the tallboy instead.

"Number, please," said Miss Childe, who had entered the closet and was
standing a-tiptoe before a mirror to adjust a patch beneath her left
eye.

"Lot 207," said I.

"Line's engaged," said Miss Childe. "Didn't you see it in _The Times_?"

By way of answer, I threw a large plate at her. She seemed more pleased
than otherwise with the attention, and began to pluck the delicate
flowers with which it was painted and gather them into a nosegay. In
some dudgeon, I blew a small jug of great beauty on to a carved
prie-dieu, to which it adhered as though made of some slimy substance.

"Cannon," said my lady. "Shall I put you on?"

"I wish you would. It's rather important."

"You're through."

"Tallboy speaking," said a faint voice. "Tallboy. Tallboy."

"How d'ye do?" said I.

"Ill," said the voice, "so ill. All these years I've carried it, and no
one knew----"

"Pardon me," said I. "I only put it there five minutes ago. You see, the
fire was almost out and----"

"Measurements tell," said the voice. "But they never do that. They
polish my panels and lay fair linen within me, and great folk have stood
about me telling each other of my elegance, and once a baby child
mirrored its little face in one of my sides. And all the time
measurements tell. But they never do that."

A sigh floated to my ears, a long, long sigh that rose into a wail of
the wind, and a casement behind me blew to with a shaking clash.

Somewhere a dog was howling.

On a sudden I felt cold. The sunshine was gone, and the chamber had
become grey and dismal. Misery was in the air.

A stifled exclamation made me look round.

My lady had backed shrinking into a corner, one little hand pressed to
her heart, and in her hunted eyes sat Fear dominant. The sweet face was
drawn and colourless, and her breath came quickly, so that it was
grievous to mark the flutter of her smooth white chest.

Mechanically I turned to seek the cause of her terror.

I saw a powerfully-built man standing square in the closet's doorway.
His face was coarse and red and brutal, and his small black eyes glowed
with an ugly twinkle as he surveyed his quarry. Upon the thick lips
there was a sinister smile, which broadened hideously as he glanced at
the nosegay held betwixt his finger and thumb--the little nosegay that
she had gathered so lightly from the painted plate