le taking things for granted. I
assumed you would realise these things. It was my own fault."

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that the real reason was his
love of mystery and his Secret Service habit of distrusting people, but
I realised that Eileen had shown a little of the same evasiveness, and
I would not have her think that my criticism was directed against her.

Presently Tiel suggested that it would be wiser if I retired to my
room, and for a moment there was a sharp, though politely expressed
difference of opinion between us. I argued very naturally that since
the servant was in our pay there was no danger to be apprehended within
the house, and that I was as safe in the parlour as anywhere. In his
mystery-making, ultra-cautious way, he insisted that a visitor _might_
appear (he even suggested the police--though he had just previously
said they had no suspicion!) and that he was going to run no risks.
Eileen said a word on his side--though with a very kind look at me--and
I consented to go. And then he requested me to stay there for the rest
of the evening! Again Eileen saved a strained situation, and I said
farewell stiffly to him and very differently to her; in fact I made a
point of accentuating the difference.

I reached my room, lit a cigar, and for a time paced the floor in a
state of mind which I found hard to analyse. I can only say that my
feelings were both mixed and strong, and that at last, to give me
relief, I sat down to write my narrative, and by nine o'clock in the
evening had brought it up nearly to this point.

By that time of course the curtains were drawn and my lamp was lit, and
as it was a windy chilly night, my fire was blazing brightly. Higher
and higher rose the wind till it began to make a very heavy and
constant booming in the chimney, like distant salvoes of great guns.
Apart from the wind the old house was utterly quiet, and when the
wooden stair suddenly creaked I dropped my pen and sat up very sharply.
More and more distinctly I heard a firm but light tread coming up and
up, until at last it ceased on the landing. And then came a gentle tap
upon my door.

VII.

AT NIGHT.

With a curious sense of excitement I crossed the room. I opened the
door--and there stood Eileen. She had taken off her hat, and without
it looked even more beautiful, for what hat could rival her masses of
dark hair so artfully arranged and yet with a rippling wave all through