“I thought I heard somebody.  Did you hear her, then?”

“No, she rang for me afterwards.  There’s a little electric bell over my bed, from her room.”

“And I heard that too,” said Louis.

“Will you ask Dr. Yardley to come at once?”

“I’m off,” said he.  “What a good thing I wasn’t in bed!”

“What a good thing you’re here at all!” Rachel murmured, suddenly smiling.

He was waiting anxiously for her to leave the room again.  But instead of leaving it she came to the fireplace and looked behind the screen.  He trembled.

“Oh!  That kettle is there!  I thought it must be!” And picked it up.

Then, with the kettle in one hand, she went to a large cupboard let into the wall opposite the door, and opened it.

“You know Park Road, I suppose?” she turned to him.

“Yes, yes, I’m off!”

He was obliged to go, surrendering the room to her.  As he descended the stairs he heard her come out of the room.  She was following him downstairs.  “Don’t bang the door,” she whispered.  “I’ll come and shut it after you.”

The next moment he had undone the door and was down the front steps and in the solitude of Bycars Lane.  He ran up the street, full of the one desire to accomplish his errand and be back again in the spare bedroom alone.  The notes were utterly safe where they lay, and yet—­astounding events might happen.  Was it not a unique coincidence that on this very night and no other his aunt should fall ill, and that as a result Rachel should take him unawares at the worst moment of his dilemma?  And further, could it be the actual fact, as he had been wildly guessing only a few minutes earlier, that his aunt had at last missed the notes?  Could it be that it was this discovery which had upset her and brought on an attack?...  An attack of what?

He swerved at the double into Park Road, which was a silent desert watched over by forlorn gaslamps.  He saw the yellow gate.  The yellow gate clanked after him.  He searched in the deep shadow of the porch for the button of the night bell, and had to strike a match in order to find it.  He rang; waited and waited, rang again; waited; rang a third time, keeping his finger hard on the button.  Then arose and expired a flickering light in the hall of the house.

“That’ll do!  That’ll do!  You needn’t wear the bell out.”  He could hear the irritated accents through the glazed front door.

A dim figure in a dressing-gown opened.

“Are you Dr. Yardley?” Louis gasped between rapid breaths.

“What is it?” The question was savage.

With his extraordinary instinctive amiability Louis smiled naturally and persuasively.

“You’re wanted at Mrs. Maldon’s, Bycars.  Awfully sorry to disturb you.”

“Oh!” said the dressing-gown in a changed, interested tone.  “Mrs. Maldon’s!  Right.  I’ll follow you.”

“You’ll come at once?” Louis urged.