“An’ there’s that blessed b’y,” continued Mrs. Trapes, “a-layin’ up-stairs yearnin’ for you, Hermy, an’ him s’ pale an’ gentle—­God bless him!  An’ it now bein’ exackly twenty-two an’ a half minutes past ’leven by my beautiful new watch as ticks most musical!  Time as you was in bed—­both of you! an’ that reminds me, Hermy, I sent your maid t’ bed like you told me, an’ with my own two hands I laid out one o’ them lovely noo nightdresses—­the one with the short sleeves an’ lace as you showed me last night an’—­Land sakes, she’s gone!  Think o’ that now—­my, my!  Mrs. Ravenslee’s wonderful quick an’ light on her feet, Mr. Geoffrey!”

Here Mrs. Trapes raised the watch to her ear and hearkened to its tick again, smiling at Ravenslee’s broad back as he turned to reach his glass.

“Them nightdresses,” she sighed, “as is all fluffs an’ frills an’ openwork, may be all right when you’re young, but for true comfort give me—­flannel, every time.”

Here Ravenslee, in the act of sipping his brandy and soda, choked; when at last he glanced around, Mrs. Trapes was gone.

Then he drew a chair to the fire and, sitting down, took up his pipe and tried to light it, but Hermione’s nervous white fingers had packed it too tightly for mortal suction, whereat he sighed and, yielding to the impossible, sat with it in his hand, lost in happy thought and waiting for the swift light footsteps he yearned to hear.

The clock in the hall without struck midnight, but long after the mellow chime had died away he sat there waiting; but the great house lay very still about him, and no sound broke the pervading quiet.  Wherefore at last he grew restless, frowned at the dying fire, and his strong fingers clenched themselves fiercely about the pipe they still held.

All at once he started, rose to his feet, and turned toward the door eager-eyed, as a hand knocked softly; before he could speak it opened, and Mrs. Trapes reappeared; she was clad in a long flannel dressing gown, and as she paused in the shadows by the door he could vaguely define that she still held the precious watch to her ear.

“It do tick that musical,” she said, “an’ I can’t sleep this night till I’ve tried t’ thank ye both for—­for all your goodness to a lonely woman.  Ah, Mr. Geoffrey, I guess th’ day as you came seekin’ lodgin’s at my little flat was a good day for Ann Angelina Trapes—­why, my land, Mr. Geoffrey—­ain’t Hermy here?”

“No,” answered Ravenslee a little bitterly.  “Oh, no, I’m quite alone—­as usual, Mrs. Trapes.”

“Why, now, that’s queer!”

“How queer?”

“Because I’ve jest been into her bedroom, an’ there’s her things—­except that nightdress—­but she—­ain’t!”

“Not there?  She must be!  Did you look in—­her bed?”

“Lord, Mr. Geoffrey—­her bed ain’t been tetched!”

“Then where in the world is she?”

“Well,” said Mrs. Trapes, consulting her watch again, “it is now exactly fifteen and three-quarter minutes after midnight, so I guess she’s in bed somewhere.  But this is a big house, an’ there’s lots of bedrooms, so if I was you, I’d go an’ look—­till I found her—­”