And therewith Miss Rodney left the house.

On her return she found the bedroom relatively clean, and, knowing that too much must not be expected at once, she made no comment.  That night, as she sat reading at eleven o’clock, a strange sound arose in the back part of the house; it was a man’s voice, hilariously mirthful and breaking into rude song.  After listening for a few minutes, Miss Rodney rang her bell, and the landlady appeared.

‘Whose Voice is that I hear?’

‘Voice, miss?’

‘Who is shouting and singing?’ asked Miss Rodney, in a disinterested tone.

‘I’m sorry if it disturbs you, miss.  You’ll hear no more.’

‘Mrs. Turpin, I asked who it was.’

’My ‘usband, miss.  But—­’

‘Thank you.  Good night, Mrs. Turpin.’

There was quiet for an hour or more.  At something after midnight, when Miss Rodney had just finished writing half a dozen letters, there sounded a latch-key in the front door, and some one entered.  This person, whoever it was, seemed to stumble about the passage in the dark, and at length banged against the listener’s door.  Miss Rodney started up and flung the door open.  By the light of her lamp she saw a moustachioed face, highly flushed, and grinning.

‘Beg pardon,’ cried the man, in a voice which harmonised with his look and bearing.  ’Infernally dark here; haven’t got a match.  You’re Miss—­pardon—­forgotten the name—­new lodger.  Oblige me with a light?  Thanks awfully.’

Without a word Miss Rodney took a match-box from her chimney-piece, entered the passage, entered the second parlour—­that occupied by Mr. Rawcliffe—­and lit a candle which stood on the table.

‘You’ll be so kind,’ she said, looking her fellow-lodger in the eyes, ’as not to set the house on fire.’

‘Oh, no fear,’ he replied, with a high laugh.  ’Quite accustomed.  Thanks awfully, Miss—­pardon—­forgotten the name.’

But Miss Rodney was back in her sitting-room, and had closed the door.

Her breakfast next morning was served by Mabel Turpin, the elder daughter, a stupidly good-natured girl, who would fain have entered into conversation.  Miss Rodney replied to a question that she had slept well, and added that, when she rang her bell, she would like to see Mrs. Turpin.  Twenty minutes later the landlady entered.

‘You wanted me, miss?’ she began, in what was meant for a voice of dignity and reserve.  ‘I don’t really wait on lodgers myself.’

’We’ll talk about that another time, Mrs. Turpin.  I wanted to say, first of all, that you have spoiled a piece of good bacon and two good eggs.  I must trouble you to cook better than this.’

‘I’m very sorry, miss, that nothing seems to suit you’

‘Oh, we shall get right in time!’ interrupted Miss Rodney cheerfully.  ’You will find that I have patience.  Then I wanted to ask you whether your husband and your lodger come home tipsy every night, or only on Saturdays?’