nt
reason during an afternoon nap.

I awoke at last to hear the old Abbey clock striking five, and then I
nearly jumped out of my seat, for I recollected my promise to the
unknown old lady in Monmouth Street to visit her again that day at that
very hour.

I hurried through the hall to the coat room, and, seizing my hat,
rushed out and just caught a tram which was gliding past in the
direction of the upper town where Monmouth Street stretched its length
along the slope of the hill.

It was only three minutes past five when the gaily lighted tram
deposited me at the end of my old lady's street, and I set off for
Number 190, which was at the other extremity of the long, badly lighted
thoroughfare, looking, with its interminable rows of oblong windows,
like an odd corner of the eighteenth century which had been left behind
in the march of time.

I found the house practically as I had left it; there was no fog that
evening, and I had a better opportunity of observing its general
appearance in the yellow flare of the old-fashioned gas lamp opposite.

The house on one side of it was to be let, with a large staring board
announcing that fact fixed to the railings; the house on the other side
was a dingy looking place with lace curtains shrouding the dining-room
windows and a notice outside concerning "Apartments."

I drew out the latch-key, blew in it to cleanse it from any dust, then,
with very little difficulty, opened the door and entered Number 190.

CHAPTER III

THE SECOND VISIT AND ITS RESULT

The first thing which caught my attention was the wax candle with its
glass shade standing on the raised flap which did duty for a hall table.

I at once lit the candle from the box of matches by it, and then, when
it had burned up a little, proceeded at once to the kitchen staircase.
The old lady had given me the latch-key with such a free hand that I
felt myself fully justified in walking in; in fact, I rather wanted to
take her by surprise if possible.

Nevertheless I made a little noise going downstairs to give her
knowledge of my approach, and it was then that I thought I heard a
window open somewhere at the back of the house.

I walked towards the end of the passage, and there I saw the glow of
the fire reflected through the open door of the handsome sitting-room
in which I had sat with the old lady on the previous day. It played
upon the opposite wall as I advanced with a great air of comfort.

"Ten to