e uncarpeted stairs stretched up into the
darkness, unlit except for the glimmer that came from the room at whose
door she was standing....

There was a voice now, rising and falling steadily, and she heard it
broken in upon now and again by something that resembled a chuckle.
Somehow or another this sickened her more than all else; it was like her
husband's voice. She recoiled into the room, and, as she did so, there
came the sound of blows and the stamping of feet, and she knew, in a way
that she could not explain, that there was no fight going on. It was
some kind of punishment, not a conflict....

She would have given the world to move, to run to the street door and
scream for help; but her knees shook under her and her heart seemed to
be hammering itself to bits. Jimmie had hold of her now, clinging round
her, shaking with terror and murmuring something she could not
understand. Her whole attention was upstairs. She was wondering how long
it would go on.

It must be past midnight now, she thought: the streets seethed still as
death. But overhead there was still movement and the sound of blows,
and then abruptly the end came.

There was one more crescendo of noise--two voices raised in dispute, one
almost shrill, in anger or expostulation; then one more sudden and heavy
noise as of a blow or a fall, and dead silence.

(III)

The next thing that Mrs. Partington remembered afterwards was that she
found herself standing on the landing upstairs, listening, yet afraid to
move.

All was very nearly silent within: there was just low talking, and the
sound of something being moved. It was her husband's voice that she
heard.

Beyond her the stairs ran up to the next story, and she became aware
presently that someone else was watching, too. An untidy head of a woman
leaned over the banisters, and candle-light from somewhere beyond lit up
her face. She was grinning.

* * * * *

Then the sharp whisper came down the stairs demanding what was up.

Mrs. Partington jerked her thumb towards the closed door and nodded
reassuringly. She was aware that she must be natural at all costs. The
woman still hung over the banisters a minute longer and then was gone.

Jimmie was with her too, now, still just in his shirt, perfectly quiet,
with a face as white as paper. His big black eyes dwelt on his mother's
face.

Then suddenly she could bear the suspense no more. She stole up to the
door, s