hey went together into the
small court and began to mount the stairs leading to her flat. The
stairway was enclosed and very dark. On the first landing was a window
through which shone a faint gleam of starlight. He stopped and took her
in his arms, but very tenderly. He felt her weariness and apprehension.
His passion curbed itself to her need.

"When shall I see you again?" he whispered.

She whispered back:

"I will let you know.... I will write."

Suddenly she started. Amaldi, too, looked up at the dark stairway.

"I heard a door open.... We must go...." she murmured.

"Wait. Let me go first," he said, taking out a box of matches. "These
will be better than nothing...."

He mounted slowly before her, lighting the little wax-matches as he
went. It seemed to her that the stairway was endless--she was so tired!
She dragged herself up, watching his face and figure spring out in the
orange wax-light against the darkness, then fade again as the light died
down. Now she could not see him. Then again came the spurt of bluish
flame deepening to orange, and again she would see his slight, strong
figure and the clear-cut mask of his face.

As they turned the last landing, and went up the flight leading direct
to her apartment, they saw that the door was open and Rosa standing with
a candle at the top of the stairs. She gave a cry of joy as she caught
sight of Sophy--and came rushing down to meet her. Oh, the Madonna and
San Guiseppe be praised! Oh, what had happened? She and Miladi had been
_so_ afraid--so terribly afraid!...

As she was speaking, a tall figure appeared in the open doorway. Sophy's
heart seemed to lose a beat. Lady Wychcote acknowledged Amaldi's
greeting, then called to Sophy:

"Are you really unhurt?... I fancied all sorts of horrid accidents...."

Sophy answered in the natural voice that astonishes one's self at such
moments:

"Yes. I'm quite all right, thanks. But there _has_ been an accident...."

"Ah.... I felt sure of it!" said Lady Wychcote.

All three entered the drawing-room. Rosa had rushed off again to tell
the other servants of the Signora's safe return. Amaldi felt that he
must not leave too abruptly. Lady Wychcote's unexpected presence at the
flat struck him as not only unfortunate but very singular, even ominous.
Why had she come, then, a day before she was expected by Sophy? One who
wished to surprise another in some overt act would follow just such a
course. And as he looked a