But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. His number was unlisted and unpublished. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. It was the gallows. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. I asked you to go. There was a recurrence of fever, but nothing alarming. It's kind of comforting to have you there. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. The mere fact that he was there in the train alongside her, helping her, sitting opposite to her in the dining-car, presently sleeping on a seat within a yard of her, made her heart sing until she was afraid their fellow passengers would hear it. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. "I am only fit for such as him.
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