pitifully, a little wistfully. Then, with a
shrug of the shoulders, she turned round to the piano and recommenced to
play. Hamel took his coat and hat from a servant who was waiting in the
hail and passed out into the night.

He walked briskly until he reached the Tower. The wind had risen, but
there was still enough light to help him on his way. The little building
was in complete darkness. He opened the door and stepped into the
sitting-room, lit the lamp, and, holding it over his head, went down
the passage and into the kitchen. Then he gave a start. The lamp nearly
slipped from his fingers. Kneeling on the stone floor, in very much the
same attitude as he had found her earlier in the day, Hannah Cox was
crouching patiently by the door which led into the boat-house, her
face expressionless, her ear turned towards the crack. She was still
listening.

CHAPTER XXXI

Hamel set down the lamp upon the table. He glanced at the little clock
upon the dresser; it was a quarter past ten. The woman had observed his
entrance, although it seemed in no way to have discomposed her.

"Do you know the time, Mrs. Cox?" he asked. "You ought to have been home
hours ago. What are you doing there?"

She rose to her feet. Her expression was one of dogged but patient
humility.

"I started for home before nine o'clock, sir," she told him, "but it was
worse than ever to-night. All the way along by the sea I seemed to
hear their voices, so I came back. I came back to listen. I have been
listening for an hour."

Hamel looked at her with a frown upon his forehead.

"Mrs. Cox," he said, "I wish I could understand what it is that you
have in your mind. Those are not real voices that you hear; you cannot
believe that?"

"Not real voices," she repeated, without the slightest expression in her
tone.

"Of course not! And tell me what connection you find between these
fancies of yours and that room? Why do you come and listen here?"

"I do not know," she answered patiently.

"You must have some reason," he persisted.

"I have no reason," she assured him, "only some day I shall see behind
these doors. Afterwards, I shall hear the voices no more."

She was busy tying a shawl around her head. Hamel watched her, still
puzzled. He could not get rid of the idea that there was some method
behind her madness.

"Tell me--I have found you listening here before. Have you ever heard
anything suspicious?"

"I have heard nothing yet," she