"You didn't tell 'im about me, did you?"
"He never asked. He was pretty well amazed. He's a simple lad. I'll look after him, May."
"Oh, Delight, 'ow can I ever get a'old of Albert tonight?"
"Look here. There's a closet between the dining-room and the bar! It's a dark, narrow one and it isn't often used now. It has a little frosted glass window in the wall where drinks used to be handed through for the dining-room. And, look here, May, some Nosey Parker of a girl has scraped a bit of the frosting off the pane, just enough to fit the eye, and what's to prevent you hiding in there tonight and watching for your boy? You say he likes his glass."
"Oh, 'e does, and 'e's a little terror all right w'en 'e's got a bit more than 'e can carry."
"Well, get him before he takes that much. Scratch on the pane like a little mouse." In the dusk of the stairway her long eyes were glistening with mischief. "Oo—May, it'd be fun! I wish you'd let me do it for you."
May passed the day in a waking dream. Before her, as she dusted banisters, polished looking-glasses, and slid her mop over linoleums, floated the round face of Albert. The cast in his left eye gave the face an elusive, almost sinister appearance. He seemed to be looking two ways at once, accusingly at her with one eye, shiftily away from her with the other. She saw this face in shining doorknobs, in mirrors, in the puddles on the linoleum. She felt that if she did not see the real face soon she would go mad. Yet she worked on doggedly. Mrs. Jessop was
