aturally the fellow would be suspicious
now. Would that hum of conversation never stop? It reminded him of the
fly which had been buzzing round the lamp. Supposing Saunders came in
here to fetch something? Was he to hide ignominiously behind this
confounded curtain, and what on earth would happen if he were
discovered? Michael boiled with rage at the prospect of such an
indignity. Saunders would probably want to fight him. A man who spent
his life helping to produce Crime Illustrated was no doubt deep-dyed
himself in the vulgar crudity of his material.

Ten minutes passed. Still that maddening hum of talk rose and fell. Ten
more minutes passed; and Michael began to estimate the difficulty of
climbing out of the window into the street. It had been delightful, this
experience, until he had entered this cursed flat. He should have parted
from Daisy on the doorstep, and then he would have carried home with him
the memory of a friendship that belonged to the London starlight. The
whole relation had been ruined by entering this scabrous building.

He must have been here for more than an hour. It was insufferable. He
would go boldly into the kitchen and brave Saunders' violence. Yet he
could not do that because Daisy would be involved by such a step. What
could they be talking about? It was really unreasonable for people who
lived together to sit up chatting half the night. At last he heard the
sound of an opening door; there were footsteps in the passage; another
door-opened; after a minute or two somebody walked out into the street.
Michael had just sighed with relief, when he heard footsteps coming
back; and the buzz of conversation began again in a lighter timbre. This
was simply intolerable. He was evidently going to stay here until the
filigree of shadows faded in the dawn. Saunders must have brought in a
friend with him. Another half hour passed and Michael had reached a
stage of cynicism which disclaimed any belief in friendship. Not again
would he so easily let himself be made ridiculous. Then he became
conscious of a keen desire to see this Saunders whom, by the way, he was
supposed to resemble. It was tantalizing to miss the opportunity of
comparison.

The hum of conversation stopped. Soon afterward Daisy came into the room
and whispered that he could creep out now, but that he must not slam the
front door. She would see him at the Orange to-morrow.

When they reached the passage, she called back through the kitc