ed
it, shaking the ashes together as he did so, and stood a moment,
wondering where he should hide it.

The room was growing dark now; he put the package down; went to the fire
and blew it up a little, added some wood, and presently the flames were
dancing on the broad hearth.

As he stood up again he heard the knocker rap on his street-door. For a
moment he had an instinct to run to the window and see who was there;
but he put it aside; there was scarcely time to hide the ashes; and it
was best too to give no hint of anxiety. He lifted the package of burnt
papers once more, and stood hesitating; a press would be worse than
useless as a hiding-place; all such would of course be searched. Then a
thought struck him; he stood up noiselessly on his chair. The Holbein
portrait of Cromwell in his furred gown and chain leaned forward from
the tapestry over the mantelpiece. Ralph set one hand against the wall
at the side; and then tenderly let the package fall behind the portrait.
As he did so the painted and living eyes were on a level; it seemed
strange to him that the faces were so near together at that moment; and
it struck him with a grim irony that the master should be so protecting
the servant under these circumstances.

Then he dropped lightly to the ground, and sat quickly in the chair,
snatching up the bundle of papers from the table as he did so.

The steps were on the landing now; he heard the crack of the balustrade;
but it seemed they were coming very quietly.

There was a moment's silence; the muscles of his throat contracted
sharply, then there came the servant's tap; the handle was turned.

Ralph stood up quickly, still holding the papers, as the door opened,
and Beatrice stepped forward into the room. The door shut noiselessly
behind her.

* * * * *

She stood there, with the firelight playing on her dark loose-sleeved
mantle, the hood that surrounded her head, her pale face a little
flushed, and her black steady eyes. Her breath came quickly between her
parted lips.

Ralph stared at her, dazed by the shock, still gripping the bundle of
papers. She moved forward a step; and the spell snapped.

"Mistress Beatrice," he said.

"I have come," she said; "what is it? You want me?"

She came round the table, with an air of eager expectancy.

"I--I did not know," said Ralph.

"But you wanted me. What is the matter? I heard you call."

Ralph stared again, bewildered.