on. Then she advanced
into the hall.

'I've got a parcel for him'--she showed it under her arm. 'If you'll
allow me, I'll go up, and leave it in his room. It's important.'

'And what name, Miss--if I may ask?'

The visitor hesitated again--then she said, quietly:

'I am Mrs. Fenwick--Mr. Fenwick's wife.'

'His wife!' cried the other, startled. 'Oh no; there is some
mistake--he hasn't got no wife!'

Phoebe drew herself up fiercely.

'You mustn't say such things to me, please! I _am_ Mr. Fenwick's
wife--and you must please show me his rooms.'

The emphasis and the passion with which these words were said left
Mrs. Gibbs gaping. She was a worthy woman, for whom the world--so far
as it could be studied from a Bernard Street lodging-house--had few
surprises; and a number of alternative conjectures ran through her
mind as she studied Phoebe's appearance.

'I'm sure, ma'am, I meant no offence,' she said, hurriedly; 'but, you
see, Mr. Fenwick has never--as you might say--'

'No,' said Phoebe, proudly, interrupting her; 'there was no reason why
he should speak of his private affairs. I have been in the country,
waiting till he could make a home for me. Now will you show me his
room?'

But Mrs. Gibbs did not move. She stood staring at Phoebe,
irresolute--thinking, no doubt, of the penny novelettes on which she
fed her leisure moments--till Phoebe impatiently drew a letter from
her pocket.

'I see you doubt what I say. Of course it is quite right that you
should be careful about admitting anybody to my husband's rooms in his
absence. But here is the last letter I received from him a week or two
ago.'

And, drawing it from its envelope, Phoebe showed first the signature,
'John Fenwick,' and then pointed to the address on the envelope--'Mrs.
John Fenwick, Green Nab Cottage, Great Langdale.'

'Well, I never!' said Mrs. Gibbs, staring still more widely, and
slowly retreating--'and he never lettin' me post a letter since he
came here--not once--no confidence nowhere--and I'm sure I have been
his good friend!'

Phoebe moved towards the staircase.

'Is Mr. Fenwick's room on the first floor or the second?'

Lost in protesting wonder, Mrs. Gibbs wheezily mounted the stairs far
enough to point to the door of Fenwick's room.

'Here's matches'--she fumbled in her apron-pocket. 'There's a candle
on the mantelpiece. Though I dare say he's left his lamp going. He
generally does--he don't take no account of what I says to