“Mrs. Tams!” said Mrs. Maldon, in a low, alarmed, and urgent voice.

The gas was turned down in the bedroom, and Mrs. Maldon, looking from her bed across the chamber, could only just distinguish the stout, vague form of the charwoman asleep in an arm-chair.  The light from the street lamp was strong enough to throw faint shadows of the window-frames on the blinds.  The sleeper did not stir.

Mrs. Maldon summoned again, more loudly—­

“Mrs. Tams!”

And Mrs. Tams, starting out of another world, replied with deprecation—­

“Hey, hey!” as if saying:  “I am here.  I am fully awake and observant.  Please remain calm.”

Mrs. Maldon said agitatedly—­

“I’ve just heard the front door open.  I’m sure whoever it was was trying not to make a noise.  There!  Can’t you hear anything?”

“That I canna’!” said Mrs. Tams.

“No!” Mrs. Maldon protested, as Mrs. Tams approached the gas to raise it.  “Don’t touch the gas.  If anybody’s got in let them think we’re asleep.”

The mystery of the vanished money and the fear of assassins seemed suddenly to oppress the very air of the room.  Mrs. Maldon was leaning on one elbow in her bed.

Mrs. Tams said to her in a whisper—­

“I mun go see.”

“Please don’t!” Mrs. Maldon entreated.

“I mun go see,” said Mrs. Tams.

She was afraid, but she conceived that she ought to examine the house, and no fear could have stopped her from going forth into the zone of danger.

The next moment she gave a short laugh, and said in her ordinary tone—­

“Bless us!  I shall be forgetting the nose on my face next.  It’s Miss Rachel coming in, of course.”

“Miss Rachel coming in!” repeated Mrs. Maldon.  “Has she been out?  I was not aware.  She said nothing—­”

“Her came up a bit since, and said her had to do some shopping.”

“Shopping!  At this time of night!” murmured Mrs. Maldon.

Said Mrs. Tams laconically—­

“To-morrow’s Sunday—­and pray God ye’ll fancy a bite o’ summat tasty.”

While the two old women, equalized in rank by the fact of Mrs. Maldon’s illness, by the sudden alarm, and by the darkness of the room, were thus conversing, sounds came from the pavement through the slightly open windows—­voices, and the squeak of the gate roughly pushed open.

“That’s Miss Rachel now,” said Mrs. Tams.

“Then who was it came in before?” Mrs. Maldon demanded.

There was the tread of rapid feet on the stone steps, and then the gate squeaked again.

Mrs. Tams went to the window and pulled aside the blind.

“Aye!” she announced simply.  “It’s Miss Rachel and Mr. Fores.”

Mrs. Maldon caught her breath.

“You didn’t tell me she was out with Mr. Fores,” said Mrs. Maldon, stiffly but weakly.

“It’s first I knew of it,” Mrs. Tams replied, still spying over the pavement.  “He’s given her th’ key.  There!  He’s gone.”