didn't know it was you; but I am so scared, sir, and they
ain't found Bob yet."

Elizabeth did not hear what James Poynter said about Bob, for she closed
the door, took down the chain, opened slowly and grudgingly, and the
visitor entered.

"How's the doctor?"

"Awful, please, sir, just; he's there with his eyes shut, as if he was
going to die, and Miss Rich and Miss Janet taking it in turns to sit up
night and day."

"Ask Miss Chartley to come down and see me."

"Which, please, sir, she said as she couldn't see nobody now."

"You go and do as I tell you."

"Which it ain't my place, sir, to answer the front-door-bell at all.
Poor Bob!"

She ended with a sob, and put her apron to her eyes.

"I say," said Poynter, giving her apron a twitch and dragging it down,
"look here."

"Well, I'm sure!" began Elizabeth indignantly.

"Look here; have your wages been paid?"

"Lor', no, sir, not for ever so long," said Elizabeth, with an air of
surprise at the absurdity of the question.

"Then look here, Elizabeth: you know what I come here for, don't you?"

"I think I can guess, sir," said the woman, suddenly becoming interested
and smiling weakly.

"Of course you can. You're a sharp 'un, that's what you are. So look
here: the day I'm married I'll pay your wages, and I'll give you a
fi'-pun note to buy yourself a new bonnet and gown. Now go up and say
I'm waiting to see Miss Richmond on particular business."

Elizabeth's eyes opened widely, and there was a peculiar look of
satisfaction therein, as she closed the door, led the way into the
dining-room, and then, after giving the visitor a nod of intelligence,
she left him to go up-stairs and deliver her message.

"Pah! how the place smells!" muttered Poynter. "Any one would think
that chap was here now. A nasty, damp, fusty hole!"

He listened eagerly, but the step he hoped to hear was not coming, and
he began to walk up and down, twisting his silk handkerchief round, and
polishing his glossy hat the while.

"I'm screwed up now," he muttered. "I'm not afraid of her. She can't
say no, but if she does, she's got to learn something. Perhaps she
don't know what putting on the screw means, and I shall have to teach
her. All for her good. Hah!"

There was no mistake now; a step was descending the stairs, and James
Poynter once more looked round for a mirror for a final glance; but
there was nothing of the kind on the blank walls, and he had to face
Richmo