Hilliard called for a bottle of ale:  he was consumed with thirst.

“Dare I approach her?” he asked himself.  “Is it possible?  And, if possible, is it any use?”

The difficulty was to explain his recognition of her.  But for that, he might justify himself in addressing her.

She had finished her wine and was looking round.  Her glance fell upon him, and for a moment rested.  With a courage not his own, Hilliard rose, advanced, and respectfully doffed his hat.

“Miss Madeley——­”

The note was half interrogative, but his voice failed before he could add another syllable.  Eve drew herself up, rigid in the alarm of female instinct.

“I am a stranger to you,” Hilliard managed to say.  “But I come from Dudley; I know some of your friends——­”

His hurried words fell into coherence.  At the name “Dudley” Eve’s features relaxed.

“Was it you who called at my lodgings the day before yesterday?”

“I did.  Your address was given me by Mrs. Brewer, in whose house I have lived for a long time.  She wished me to call and to give you a kind message—­to say how glad they would be to hear from you——­”

“But you didn’t leave the message.”

The smile put Hilliard at his ease, it was so gentle and friendly.

“I wasn’t able to come at the time I mentioned.  I should have called to-morrow.”

“But how is it that you knew me?  I think,” she added, without waiting for a reply, “that I have seen you somewhere.  But I can’t remember where.”

“Perhaps in the train this evening?”

“Yes so it was You knew me then?”

“I thought I did, for I happened to come out from my lodgings at the moment you were leaving yours, just opposite, and we walked almost together to Gower Street station.  I must explain that I have taken rooms in Gower Place.  I didn’t like to speak to you in the street; but now that I have again chanced to see you——­”

“I still don’t understand,” said Eve, who was speaking with the most perfect ease of manner.  “I am not the only person living in that house.  Why should you take it for granted that I was Miss Madeley?”

Hilliard had not ventured to seat himself; he stood before her, head respectfully bent.

“At Mrs. Brewer’s I saw your portrait.”

Her eyes fell.

“My portrait.  You really could recognise me from that?”

“Oh, readily!  Will you allow me to sit down?”

“Of course.  I shall be glad to hear the news you have brought.  I couldn’t imagine who it was had called and wanted to see me.  But there’s another thing.  I didn’t think Mrs. Brewer knew my address.  I have moved since I wrote to her daughter.”

“No; it was the old address she gave me.  I ought to have mentioned that:  it escaped my mind.  First of all I went to Belmont Street.”

“Mysteries still!” exclaimed Eve.  “The people there couldn’t know where I had gone to.”