Here was a crisis that had to be faced at once.  Up in their room they discussed finance, going over and over their predicament, for two hours.  There seemed no practical solution.

A heavy rain had begun to fall.  The night was hot, close.  The unaccustomed high collar of Matilda’s dress had seemed suffocating to Mrs. De Peyster, and she had loosened it, and also she had taken off the pearl pendant which had chafed her beneath the warm, heavy cloth.  The pearl and its delicate chain of platinum were now lying on their center-table.

Several times Matilda’s eye had gone furtively toward the pendant.  “I don’t see why,” she at length said doggedly, “you shouldn’t let me pawn that pearl.”

“I believe I have requested you not to refer to this again.”  Mrs. De Peyster’s tone was stiff.

Matilda’s face showed stubborn bitterness.  But the habit of obedience was too old and strong for her to speak further.

There was another silence.  Both sat in desperate thought.  Suddenly Mrs. De Peyster looked up.  “Matilda, I think I have it.”

“What is it, ma’am?”—­with faintly reviving hope.

“You have the keys to my house.  You slip back there to-night, find my purse, or bring something that you might sell.”

Matilda slumped down, aghast.

“It’s perfectly simple,” Mrs. De Peyster reassured her.  “We should have thought of it at first.”

“But, ma’am!” quaveringly protested Matilda.  “Suppose a policeman should see me!  They watch those closed houses.  And suppose—­suppose he should shoot!”

“Nonsense, Matilda!  No one will see you if you are careful.”

“But if—­if—­Mr. Jack should hear me and come down and see me—­”

“We shall prepare for such an emergency some kind of plausible explanation that will satisfy Jack.”

“But, ma’am, please!  I don’t think I could ever do it!”

“Matilda, it is the only way”—­in the voice of authority.  And then more emphatically, and in some desperation:  “Remember, we have got to do something!  We have simply got to have money!”

Matilda was beginning to whimper yieldingly, when a knock sounded at their door.  They clutched each other, but did not answer.

The knuckles rapped again.

They continued silent.

The knock sounded more loudly.

“It’s the landlady, come to throw us out,” quaked Matilda.

“Open the door,” ordered Mrs. De Peyster, decorously rearranging the throat of her dress, “and tell her she shall have her money in the morning.”

Matilda unlocked the door, partially opened it, then fell back with a little cry.  There entered the Reverend Mr. Pyecroft.  He smiled at them, put a finger to his lips.  Then he locked the door behind him.

“Please leave this instant!” commanded Mrs. De Peyster.

“It is not in my nature,” he returned in his bland voice, “to go and leave behind me fellow creatures in distress.”