Therewith Luke thrust back his chair and walked out of the room.

He did not pause till he was some distance from the club.  His blood was tingling.  But it was not in anger that he at length stood still and asked himself whither he should go.  His heart had begun to sink with fear.

Had he done wisely in insulting Bower?  The fellow would take his revenge in an obvious way.  That calumny would be in every one’s mouth by the morrow.

And yet, as if that would not have come about in any case!  How long was anything likely to remain a secret that was known in Mrs. Bower’s shop?  No, it made no difference.

Such stories going round with regard to Thyrza Trent!  What was the meaning of it?  Had there been some imprudence on Grail’s part, some thoughtlessness in keeping with his character, which had in it so little of the everyday man?  It was a monstrous thing that opportunities should have been given to that lying old woman!

He walked on, in the direction of home.  There was a hideous voice at his ear.  Suppose Grail in truth knew nothing about those meetings in the library?  How explain the first of them, two months ago?

He altered his course, and, without settled purpose, hurried towards Walnut Tree Walk.  As he drew near to the house he saw someone about to enter.  He ran forward.  It was Gilbert.

‘How does the library get on?’ he asked, with an abruptness which surprised Grail.

‘Oh, all the carpenter’s work is finished.’

‘Any books come yet?’

‘No, not yet.’

‘Ah!  Good-night!’

He passed on, leaving Gilbert still in surprise, for it was perhaps the first word Ackroyd had spoken to him concerning the library.

Luke began to run, and did not cease until he was in Brook Street in front of the library.  He tried to look in at the windows, but found that the blinds were drawn.  A policeman passed and scrutinised him.

‘Do you know whether any one lives on these premises?’ Luke asked at once.

He excited suspicion, but after a short dialogue the constable showed him the approach to the caretaker’s house.  He knocked at the door several times; at length it was barely opened.

‘Is that Mrs. Butterfield?’

‘Yes.  What may you want?’

’I want to know, if you please, if Mr. Egremont called here to-day and left a message for Mr. Smith about some books.’

‘He’s been here, but he left no message.’

‘Was he here long?’

‘All the morning.’

‘Putting books on the shelves?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you.  If there was no message, it’s all right.’

Luke went off.  In Kennington Road he again stood still.  He felt chilled and wretched to the heart’s core.  Thyrza!  Thyrza Trent!  Was it possible?

He moved on.  This time it was to Newport Street.  Half-past ten had just gone; would Totty be up still?  Whether or no, he must see her.  He rang the bell which was a summons to her part of the house.  Bunce opened.