His voice had risen in pitch, and the last cry was so terrifying that Pennyloaf fled to be out of hearing.  She reached the house to which her visit was, and in the dark passage leaned for a moment against the wall, trembling all over.  Then she began to ascend the stairs.  At Mrs. Candy’s door she knocked gently.  There was at first no answer, but when she had knocked again, a strange voice that she did not recognise asked ‘Who’s that?’ It seemed to come from low down, as if the speaker were lying on the floor.

‘It’s me,’ she replied, again trembling, she knew not with what fear.  ‘Mrs. Hewett—­Pennyloaf.’

‘Are you alone?’

She bent down, listening eagerly.

‘Who’s that speakin’?’

‘Are you alone?’

Strange; the voice was again different, very feeble, a thick whisper.

‘Yes, there’s nobody else.  Can I come in?’

There was a shuffling sound, then the key turned in the lock, Pennyloaf entered, and found herself in darkness.  She shrank back.

‘Who’s there?  Is it you, mother?  Is it you, Stephen?’

Some one touched her, at the same time shutting the door; and the voice whispered: 

‘Penny—­it’s me—­Bob.’

She uttered a cry, stretching out her hands.  A head was leaning against her, and she bent down to lay hers against it.

‘O Bob!  What are you doin’ here?  Why are you in the dark?  What’s the matter, Bob?’

’I’ve had an accident, Penny.  I feel awful bad.  Your mother’s gone out to buy a candle.  Have they been coming after me?’

’Yes, yes.  But I didn’t know you was here.  I came to ask if they knew where you was.  O Bob! what’s happened to you?  Why are you lyin’ there, Bob?’

She had folded her arms about him, and held his face to hers, sobbing, kissing him.

‘It’s all up,’ he gasped.  ’I’ve been getting worse all day.  You’ll have to fetch the parish doctor.  They’ll have me, but I can’t help it.  I feel as if I was going.’

’They shan’t take you, Bob.  Oh no, they shan’t.  The doctor needn’t know who you are.’

’It was a cab knocked me down, when I was running.  I’m awful bad, Penny.  You’ll do something for me, won’t you?’

‘Oh, why didn’t you send mother for me?’

The door opened.  It was Mrs. Candy who entered.  She slammed the door, turned the key, and exclaimed in a low voice of alarm: 

’Bob, there’s the p’lice downstairs!  They come just this minute.  There’s one gone to the back-door, and there’s one talkin’ to Mrs. Hope at the front.’

‘Then they’ve followed Pennyloaf,’ he replied, in a tone of despair.  ‘They’ve followed Pennyloaf.’

It was the truth.  She had been watched all day, and was now tracked to Shooter’s Gardens, to this house.  Mrs. Candy struck a match, and for an instant illuminated the wretched room; she looked at the two, and they at length saw each other’s faces.  Then the little flame was extinguished, and a red spot marked the place where the remnant of the match lay.