I was only--thinkin'--I--"

"What did you mean?" she cried, her grasp tightening. "Tell me what you
meant--tell me, tell me!"

"Nothin'," he mumbled, trying to break her hold. "Lemme go, I--I didn't
mean anything--"

"Tell me what you meant--tell me, tell me!"

"No--I can't--I--"

His voice failed suddenly, his whole frame grew tense and rigid, and
lifting a stiff arm he pointed a trembling finger toward the open
doorway.

"Hush--hush!" he panted, "oh, for God's sake, hush! There--don't you
hear--there's some one outside on th' landing--footsteps--hark! They're
coming to our door! They're stoppin' outside--oh, my God, it's come
at--"

The word ended in a scream, drowned all at once in a thunderous knocking
on the outer door, and Spike, crouching upon his knees, clutched at her
as she rose.

"Don't,--don't open--the door!" he gasped, while Hermione gazed at him,
terrified by his terror, as again the thunderous summons was heard.
Then, despite the boy's passionate prayers and desperate, clutching
hands, she broke from him, and hastening into the little passage, opened
the door.

Upon the threshold stood a little old man, very smartly dressed, who
saluted her with a gallant flourish of his dapper straw hat and bowed
with his two small and glittering patent leather shoes posed at position
number one in waltzing.

"Ma'am," said he, "miss, respectful greetin's. Your name's Hermione,
ain't it?"

"Yes," she answered, wondering.

"Knowed it was. And a partic'ler fine gal too! Though not 'oldin' wi'
marridge, I don't blame the Guv--'e always 'ad a quick eye for
beauty--like me."

"But who are you? What do you want--"

"Miss, I want you--leastways--'e does. Been callin' for you the last
three days 'e has, ever since 'e ketched one as fair doubled 'im up--"

"I--I don't understand. Who are you?"

"A admirer of the Guv, ma'am. A trusted friend of 'is, miss--come t'
take ye to 'is poor, yearnin' arms, lady--"

"But who--oh, what do you mean?"

"Mr. Ravenslee, ma'am."

"Mr. Ravenslee!" she echoed, her colour changing.

"Yes. Y' see--he's dyin', miss!"

Hermione gasped and leaned against the wall as if suddenly faint and
sick, perceiving which, the Old Un promptly set his arm about her waist
and led her unresisting into the parlour. There, having aided her
tenderly into a chair and nodded to pale-faced Spike, he sighed, shook
his ancient head, and continued:

"Ho, Lor lumme, lady, it fair wrung my old 'e