“I won’t speak of it.”

“Quite sure?”

“You may depend upon me.  Would you rather she didn’t know that I have seen you at all?”

“Oh, there’s no harm in that.  I should be sure to let it out.  I shall say we met by chance somewhere.”

“Very well.  I feel tempted to ask a promise iii return.”

Patty stood with her hands behind her, eyes wide and lips slightly apart.

“It is this,” he continued, lowering his voice.  “If ever you should begin to feel anxious again about her will you let me know?”

Her reply was delayed; it came at length in the form of an embarrassed nod.  Thereupon Hilliard pressed her hand and departed.

He knew the day on which Eve would arrive in London; from morning to night a feverish unrest drove him about the streets.  On the morrow he was scarcely more at ease, and for several days he lived totally without occupation, save in his harassing thoughts.  He paced and repaced the length of Holborn, wondering where it was that Eve had found employment; but from Camden Town he held aloof.

One morning there arrived for him a postcard on which was scribbled:  “We are going to the Savoy on Saturday night.  Gallery.”  No signature, no address; but of course the writer must be Patty Ringrose.  Mentally, he thanked her with much fervour.  And on the stated evening, nearly an hour before the opening of the doors, he climbed the stone steps leading to the gallery entrance of the Savoy Theatre.  At the summit two or three persons were already waiting—­ strangers to him.  He leaned against the wall, and read an evening paper.  At every sound of approaching feet his eyes watched with covert eagerness.  Presently he heard a laugh, echoing from below, and recognised Patty’s voice; then Miss Ringrose appeared round the winding in the staircase, and was followed by Eve Madeley.  Patty glanced up, and smiled consciously as she discovered the face she had expected to see; but Eve remained for some minutes unaware of her acquaintance’s proximity.  Scrutinising her appearance, as he could at his ease, Hilliard thought she looked far from well:  she had a tired, dispirited expression, and paid no heed to the people about her.  Her dress was much plainer than that she wore a month ago.

He saw Patty whispering to her companion, and, as a result, Eve’s eyes turned in his direction.  He met her look, and had no difficulty in making his way down two or three steps, to join her.  The reception she gave him was one of civil indifference.  Hilliard made no remark on what seemed the chance of their encounter, nor did he speak of her absence from London; they talked, as far as talk was possible under the circumstances, of theatrical and kindred subjects.  He could not perceive that the girl was either glad or sorry to have met him again; but by degrees her mood brightened a little, and she exclaimed with pleasure when the opening of the door caused an upward movement.