She said that she knocked at the door, but receiving no answer, and hearing Madame still talking within, she opened it.

There was a candle on the chimneypiece, and another in a stable lantern near the window.  Madame was conversing volubly on the hearth, with her face toward the window, the entire frame of which had been taken from its place:  Dickon Hawkes, the Zamiel of the wooden leg, was supporting it with one hand, as it leaned imperfectly against the angle of the recess.  There was a third figure standing, buttoned up in a surtout, with a bundle of tools under his arm, like a glazier, and, with a silent thrill of fear, she distinctly recognised the features as those of Dudley Ruthyn.

’’Twas him, Miss, so sure as I sit here!  Well, like that, they were as mute as mice; three pairs of eyes were on me.  I don’t know what made me so study like, but som’at told me I should not make as though I knew any but Madame; and so I made a courtesy, as well as I could, and I said, “Might I speak a word wi’ ye, please, on the lobby?”

‘Mr. Dudley was making belief be this time to look out at window, wi’ his back to me, and I kept looking straight on Madame, and she said, “They’re mendin’ my broken glass, Mary,” walking between them and me, and coming close up to me very quick; and so she marched me backward out o’ the door, prating all the time.

’When we were on the lobby, she took my candle from my hand, shutting the door behind her, and she held the light a bit behind her ear; so’twas full on my face, as she looked sharp into it; and, after a bit, she said again, in her queer lingo—­there was two panes broke in her room, and men sent for to mend it.

’I was awful frightened when I saw Mr. Dudley, for I could not believe any such thing before, and I don’t know how I could look her in the face as I did and not show it.  I was as smooth and cool as yonder chimneypiece, and she has an awful evil eye to stan’ against; but I never flinched, and I think she’s puzzled, for as cunning as she is, whether I believe all she said, or knowed ‘twas a pack o’ stories.  So I told her your message, and she said she had not heard another word since; but she did believe we had not many more days here, and would tell you if she heard to-night, when she brought his soup to your uncle, in half an hour’s time.’

I asked her, as soon as I could speak, whether she was perfectly certain as to the fact that the man in the surtout was Dudley, and she made answer—­

‘I’d swear to him on that Bible, Miss.’

So far from any longer wishing Madame’s return that night, I trembled at the idea of it.  Who could tell who might enter the room with her when the door opened to admit her?

Dudley, so soon as he recovered the surprise, had turned about, evidently anxious to prevent recognition; Dickon Hawkes stood glowering at her.  Both might have hope of escaping recognition in the imperfect light, for the candle on the chimneypiece was flaring in the air, and the light from the lantern fell in spots, and was confusing.