“Confound you! no!  Yes; stop.”  And the young man took a furtive investigation of the plain, honest face, and not over-graceful, ultra-provincial figure, which still characterized his aunt’s “South Sea Islander.”

“I say, Elizabeth, I want you to do something for me.”  He spoke so civilly, almost coaxingly, that Elizabeth turned round surprised.  “Would you just go and ask the landlady if she has got such thing as a latch key?”

“A what, Sir?”

“A latch-key—­a—­oh, she knows.  Every London house has it.  Tell her I’ll take care of it, and lock the front door all right.  She needn’t be afraid of thieves.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Elizabeth went, but shortly reappeared with the information that Mrs. Jones had gone to bed:  in the kitchen, she supposed, as she could not get in.  But she laid on the table the large street door key.

“Perhaps that’s what you wanted, Mr. Leaf.  Though I think you needn’t be the least afraid of robbers, for there’s three bolts, and a chain besides.”

“All right!” cried Ascott, smothering down a laugh.  “Thank you!  That’s for you,” throwing a half-crown across the table.

Elizabeth took it up demurely, and put it down again.  Perhaps she did not like him enough to receive presents from him; perhaps she thought, being an honest minded girl, that a young man who could not pay his rent had no business to be giving away half-crowns; or else she herself had not been so much as many servants are, in the habit of taking them.  For Miss Hilary had put into Elizabeth some of her own feeling as to this habit of paying an inferior with money for any little civility or kindness which, from an equal, would be accepted simply as kindness, and only requited with thanks.  Any how, the coin remained on the table, and the door was just shutting upon Elizabeth, when the young gentleman turned round again.

“I say, since my aunts are so horridly timid of robbers and such like, you’d better not tell them any thing about the latch-key.”

Elizabeth stood a minute perplexed, and then replied briefly:  “Miss Hilary isn’t a bit timid; and I always tells Miss Hilary every thing.”

Nevertheless, though she was so ignorant as never to have heard of a latch-key, she had the wit to see that all was not right.  She even lay awake, in her closet off Miss Leaf’s room, whence she could hear the murmur of her two mistresses talking together, long after they retired—­lay broad awake for an hour or more, trying to put things together—­the sad things that she felt certain must have happened that day, and wondering what Mr. Ascott could possibly want with the key.  Also, why he had asked her about it, instead of telling his aunts at once; and why he had treated her in the matter with such astonishing civility.