the panel of the door with my knuckles than a voice inquired who was there. When I informed her she made a prompt appearance in her dressing-gown.
"You, Mr. Ferguson! What do you want at this hour of the night?"
I immediately became conscious that it might be even more difficult to explain than I had supposed.
"I have a visitor downstairs, Mrs. Peddar."
"A visitor? Well? What has that to do with me? You can't have anything to eat at this time of night."
She said that, I take it, because in the Mansions meals are provided for residents, and she supposed that I had dragged her out of bed at that unholy hour in search of food.
"The visitor is a lady, and I wanted to know if you could give her a bed somewhere to-night."
"A bed? Who is the lady?"
"Well—the fact is, Mrs. Peddar, something very remarkable has taken place. I've come up to tell you all about it, and to ask your advice."
"You had better come in."
I went into her sitting-room, she, with an eye for the proprieties, leaving the door discreetly open. There was that in her bearing which made me wonder if she suspected me of having been guilty of some act of rakish impropriety, un-
