een fear and joy; for now that she
was away from Mrs. Bellew she no longer felt a sense of insult. It was
the actual sight of her that had aroused it, so personal is even the
most gentle heart.

She found the rusty handle of a bell amongst the creeper-leaves, and
pulled it. A cracked metallic tinkle answered her, but no one came; only
a faint sound as of someone pacing to and fro. Then in the street beyond
the outer gate a coster began calling to the sky, and in the music of
his prayers the sound was lost. The young man with a beard, resembling
an artist, came down the path.

"Perhaps you could tell me, sir, if my son is out?"

"I've not seen him go out; and I've been painting here all the morning."

Mrs. Pendyce looked with wonder at an easel which stood outside another
door a little further on. It seemed to her strange that her son should
live in such a place.

"Shall I knock for you?" said the artist. "All these knockers are
stiff."

"If you would be so kind!"

The artist knocked.

"He must be in," he said. "I haven't taken my eyes off his door, because
I've been painting it."

Mrs. Pendyce gazed at the door.

"I can't get it," said the artist. "It's worrying me to death."

Mrs. Pendyce looked at him doubtfully.

"Has he no servant?" she said.

"Oh no," said the artist; "it's a studio. The light's all wrong. I
wonder if you would mind standing just as you are for one second; it
would help me a lot!"

He moved back and curved his hand over his eyes, and through Mrs.
Pendyce there passed a shiver.

'Why doesn't George open the door?' she thought. 'What--what is this man
doing?'

The artist dropped his hand.

"Thanks so much!" he said. "I'll knock again. There! that would raise
the dead!"

And he laughed.

An unreasoning terror seized on Mrs. Pendyce.

"Oh," she stammered, "I must get in--I must get in!"

She took the knocker herself, and fluttered it against the door.

"You see," said the artist, "they're all alike; these knockers are as
stiff' as pokers."

He again curved his hand over his eyes. Mrs. Pendyce leaned against the
door; her knees were trembling violently.

'What is happening?' she thought. 'Perhaps he's only asleep,
perhaps----Oh God!'

She beat the knocker with all her force. The door yielded, and in the
space stood George. Choking back a sob, Mrs. Pendyce went in. He banged
the door behind her.

For a full minute she did not speak, possessed still by that strange
te