t since then. Impatient, he
had to repeat his knock before any one came. Then Mr. Jarmey appeared.
No, he knew Miss Trent was not in; she had gone out with his wife half
an hour ago, but it was getting late, and they were sure to be soon
back.

'Is Mr. Grail in?'

'I think so. I'll just knock and see.'

Gilbert was at home, and Ackroyd went into the parlour. The two were
very friendly whenever they met, but that was seldom; Grail was
surprised at the visit. He was sitting with his mother; they seemed to
have been talking, for no book lay on the table. Luke explained why he
had come to the house.

'Will you let me sit here till she comes in, Grail?'

A chair was at once brought forward, with quiet readiness. One chair
there was in the room which no one ever used, though at evening it was
always put in a particular position, between the table and the
fireplace. Gilbert kept his hand on the back of it as he talked.

Ackroyd railed against the Bowers. Gilbert did not seem able to express
very strong feeling, even when he had heard all that the other knew and
suspected; his brows darkened, however, and he was anxious on Lydia's
account.

An oppressive silence had fallen upon the three, when at length they
heard the front-door open.

'Would you like mother to go upstairs to her and tell her?' Gilbert
asked.

'I should. It would be kind of you, Mrs. Grail. But only just speak as
if it was an accident; I wouldn't say anything else.'

Mrs. Grail left the room without speaking. She returned in a few
minutes, and, leaving the door a little open, said in her very low,
tremulous voice, that Lydia was waiting in the passage. Ackroyd shook
hands with the two, and went out.

Lydia looked eagerly into his face.

'Is he very bad, Mr. Ackroyd?' she whispered.

'I hope he's come round by this time,' was his reply. 'My sister's
attending to him, and we've got things for him from the doctor.'

They passed into the street, and walked quickly side by side.

'It was very good of you to take him in,' Lydia said. 'It would have
been very hard to ask Mrs. Bower for help.'

'Yes, yes; We don't want them.'

Lydia and Mrs. Poole had never met. They looked with interest at each
other. Ackroyd went down into the kitchen, leaving them together in the
room with the old man.

The night went on. Ackroyd and his brother-in-law smoked innumerable
pipes by the kitchen fire. Jim often nodded, but Luke was far from
sleep; the sad still