’She’s getting up;—­she’s leaving the window;—­let’s hope to goodness she’s coming down to open the door.  That’s been the longest five minutes I’ve known.’

I could hear uncertain footsteps descending the stairs.  They came along the passage.  The door was opened—­’on the chain.’  The old lady peered at us through an aperture of about six inches.

’I don’t know what you young men think you’re after, but have all three of you in my house I won’t.  I’ll have him and you’—­a skinny finger was pointed to Lessingham and me; then it was directed towards Atherton—­’but have him I won’t.  So if it’s anything particular you want to say to me, you’ll just tell him to go away.’

On hearing this Sydney’s humility was abject.  His hat was in his hand,—­he bent himself double.

’Suffer me to make you a million apologies, madam, if I have in any way offended you; nothing, I assure you, could have been farther from my intention, or from my thoughts.’

’I don’t want none of your apologies, and I don’t want none of you neither; I don’t like the looks of you, and so I tell you.  Before I let anybody into my house you’ll have to sling your hook.’

The door was banged in our faces.  I turned to Sydney.

’The sooner you go the better it will be for us.  You can wait for us over the way.’

He shrugged his shoulders, and groaned,—­half in jest, half in earnest.

’If I must I suppose I must,—­it’s the first time I’ve been refused admittance to a lady’s house in all my life!  What have I done to deserve this thing?—­If you keep me waiting long I’ll tear that infernal den to pieces!’

He sauntered across the road, viciously kicking the stones as he went.  The door reopened.

‘Has that other young man gone?’

‘He has.’

‘Then now I’ll let you in.  Have him inside my house I won’t.’

The chain was removed.  Lessingham and I entered.  Then the door was refastened and the chain replaced.  Our hostess showed us into the front room on the ground floor; it was sparsely furnished and not too clean,—­but there were chairs enough for us to sit upon; which she insisted on our occupying.

’Sit down, do,—­I can’t abide to see folks standing; it gives me the fidgets.’

So soon as we were seated, without any overture on our parts she plunged in medias res.

’I know what it is you’ve come about,—­I know!  You want me to tell you who it is as lives in the house over the road.  Well, I can tell you,—­and I dare bet a shilling that I’m about the only one who can.’

I inclined my head.

‘Indeed.  Is that so, madam?’

She was huffed at once.

’Don’t madam me,—­I can’t bear none of your lip service.  I’m a plain-spoken woman, that’s what I am, and I like other people’s tongues to be as plain as mine.  My name’s Miss Louisa Coleman; but I’m generally called Miss Coleman,—­I’m only called Louisa by my relatives.’