and I prayed as hard as I could
for heavenly guidance, and I was just coming down the Square on my way
to Milcher's when who should I see get out of a taxi and run into this
house but that young lady and her young man. I said in my haste that was
an answer to prayer, sir, but I'm not so sure now as I wasn't presuming
too much. I could see there was something swanky a-going on here and I
said to myself, 'That young lady's gone in. She'll come out again; she's
one of the gues's, she is,' I said, 'and him too, and I'll wait till she
does come out and then I'll catch her and have it out with her even if
it means policemen.' And the area-gate being unfastened, I slipped down
the area-steps, sir, with my eye on the front-door. And that was what
did me. I had to sit down on the stone steps, sir, because of my
varicose veins and then one of the servants comes in _from_ the street,
sir, and I more like dropped down the area-steps, sir, than walked, sir,
and hid between two dustbins, and when the coast was clear I went up
again and found gate locked and nothing doing. And it's as true as I'm
standing here--sitting, I should say."

Mr. Prohack paused, collecting himself, determined to keep his nerve
through everything. Then he said:

"When did the mysterious young lady borrow the keys from you?"

"Last night, sir, I mean the night before last."

"And where are the keys now?"

"Milcher's got 'em, sir. I lay he's up in the tower by this time,
a-worrying over that clock. It'll be in the papers--you see if it isn't,
sir."

"And he's got no idea that you ever lent the keys?"

"That he has not, sir. And the question is: must I tell him?"

"What exactly are the relations between you and Mr. Milcher?"

"Well, sir, he's a bit dotty about me, as you might say. And he's going
to marry me. So he says, and I believe him."

And Mr. Prohack reflected, impressed by the wonder of existence:

"This woman too has charm for somebody, who looks on her as the most
appetising morsel on earth."

"Now," he said aloud, "you are good enough to ask my opinion whether you
ought to tell Mr. Milcher. My advice to you is: Don't. I applaud your
conversion. But as you say, a promise is a promise--even if it's a
naughty promise. You did wrong to promise. You will suffer for that, and
don't think your conversion will save you from suffering, because it
won't. Don't run away with the idea that conversion is a
patent-medicine. It isn't. It's rather a que