tarted when Aunt Anne said in a very emphatic
tone, "He looked a very nice cabman, quite respectable and honest."

"Yes," Barbara said meekly, though she had hardly noticed him.

"I knew it was some distance from the station, of course."

"Yes," Barbara replied once more, and added, "of course," as Miss
Britton began to look rather fierce.

"It was a little stupid of you not to think of proposing to stay in the
station hotel while I was collecting the wraps," she went on rather
sharply, and Barbara was trying to think of something soothing to say,
when the cab drew up suddenly and they were both precipitated on to the
hat-boxes on the other seat.

Barbara put her hat straight and looked out of the window. It
certainly seemed to be a funny place to which they had come. The
houses were high and narrow, and the one they had stopped at had a
dirty archway without a single light; but, as the driver showed no
intention of getting down and ringing, Barbara stepped out and groped
about for a bell or a knocker of some kind. Then the cabman, pointing
with his whip up the archway, said, "Numero quatorze, par la." The
girl did not much relish going into the darkness by herself, for she
was sure there must be some mistake. But she was afraid that, if Miss
Britton got out too, the man might drive away and leave them, so she
begged her aunt to remain in the cab while she went into the archway to
make inquiries. After some groping she found a bell-rope, and rang
three times without receiving any answer. She was just about to ring
again, when she heard stealthy steps approaching the door, and the next
moment it was opened, disclosing to her frightened gaze a dirty-looking
man, wearing a red nightcap, and carrying a candle in his hand.

Barbara recoiled a step, for though she had been sure there was some
mistake she had not expected anything as bad as this. However, she
managed to gasp out, "Madame Belvoir's?" and was intensely relieved to
see the fellow shake his head. But he leered at her so horribly that
she waited to make no more inquiries, but turned and fled back to the
_fiacre_.

"This is not the right place," she pouted, "and I'm thankful it
isn't--there's _such_ a horrid man."

"A man! But she was a widow," Aunt Anne said vaguely; and her niece
could not help laughing, for if that _were_ the case there might have
been brothers or sons.

But the cabman was getting very impatient, and it was not an easy
matter