d
for the sake of impressing old Mrs. Bethel, that there was little or
nothing behind it, but that was unlikely.

He had formed no definite decision as to the method of his attack; he
must wait and see how the land lay. A great deal depended on the
presence of the mother--the girl, too, might be so many different
things; he was not even certain of her age. If there was nothing in
it, he would look a fool, but he must risk that. A wild idea came into
his head that he might, perhaps, find Clare there--that would be
amusing. He imagined them bidding for the letters, and that brought
him to the point that money would be necessary--well, he was ready to
pay a good deal, for it was Robin for whom he was bidding.

He found the street without any difficulty. Its dinginess was obvious,
and now, with a little wind whistling round its corners and whirling
eddies of dust in the road, its three lamps at long distances down the
street, the monotonous beat of the sea beyond the walls, it was
depressing and sad.

It reminded him of the street in Auckland where he had heard the
strange voice; it was just such another moment now--the silence bred
expectancy and the sea was menacing.

"I shall get the shivers if I don't move," he said, and rang the bell.

The slatternly servant that he had expected to see answered the bell,
and the tap-tap of her down-at-heels slippers sounded along the passage
as she departed to see if Mrs. Feverel would see him.

He waited in the draughty hall; it was so dark that coats and hats
loomed, ghostly shapes, by the farther wall. A door opened, there was
sound of voices--a moment's pause, then the door closed and the maid
appeared at the head of the stairs.

"The missis says you can come up," she said ungraciously.

She eyed him curiously as he passed her, and scented drama in the set
of his shoulders and the twitch of his fingers.

"A military!" she concluded, and tap-tapped down again into the kitchen.

A low fire was burning in the grate and the blind napped against the
window. The draught blew the everlastings on the mantelpiece together
with a little dry, dusty sound like the rustle of a breeze in dried
twigs.

Mrs. Feverel sat bending over the fire, and he thought as he saw her
that it would need a very great fire indeed to put any warmth into her.
Her black hair, parted in the middle, was bound back tightly over her
head and confined by a net.

She shook hands with him solemnly, an