“Stay, how did she get to know him first?”

“Just by chance—­somewhere.”

“I understand,” said Hilliard grimly.  “Go on.”

“And his wife got someone to spy on him, and they found out he was meeting Eve, and she jumped out on them when they were walking somewhere together, and told Eve everything.  He wasn’t living with his wife, and hasn’t been for a long time.”

“What’s his position?”

“He’s in business, and seems to have lots of money; but I don’t exactly know what it is he does.”

“You are afraid, then, that Eve is being drawn back to him?”

“I feel sure she is—­and it’s dreadful.”

“What I should like to know,” said Hilliard, harshly, “is whether she really cares for him, or only for his money.”

“Oh!  How horrid you are!  I never thought you could say such a thing!”

“Perhaps you didn’t.  All the same, it’s a question.  I don’t pretend to understand Eve Madeley, and I’m afraid you are just as far from knowing her.”

“I don’t know her?  Why, what are you talking about, Mr. Hilliard?”

“What do you think of her, then?  Is she a good-hearted girl or——­”

“Or what?  Of course she’s good-hearted.  The things that men do say!  They seem to be all alike.”

“Women are so far from being all alike that one may think she understands another, and be utterly deceived.  Eve has shown her best side to you, no doubt.  With me, she hasn’t taken any trouble to do so.  And if——­”

“Hush!”

This time the alarm was justified.  A latchkey rattled at the house-door, the door opened, and in the same moment Patty turned out the light.

“It’s my uncle,” she whispered, terror-stricken.  “Don’t stir.”

CHAPTER XII

A heavy footstep sounded in the passage, and Hilliard, to whose emotions was now added a sense of ludicrous indignity, heard talk between Patty and her uncle.

“You mustn’t lock up yet,” said the girl, “Eve is out.”

“What’s she doing?”

“I don’t know.  At the theatre with friends, I dare say.”

“If we’d been staying on here, that young woman would have had to look out for another lodging.  There’s something I don’t like about her, and if you take my advice, Patty, you’ll shake her off.  She’ll do you no good, my girl.”

They passed together into the room behind the shop, and though their voices were still audible, Hilliard could no longer follow the conversation.  He stood motionless, just where Patty had left him, with a hand resting on the top of the piano, and it seemed to him that at least half an hour went by.  Then a sound close by made him start; it was the snapping of a violin string; the note reverberated through the silent shop.  But by this time the murmur of conversation had ceased, and Hilliard hoped that Patty’s uncle had gone upstairs to bed.