had found there. For a moment she observed him; then she spoke.

'What business have you here?'

Rawcliffe gave such a start that he almost jumped from the ground. His
face, as he put down the letter and turned, was that of a gibbering idiot;
his lips moved, but no sound came from them.

'What are you doing in my room?' demanded Miss Rodney, in her severest
tones.

'I really beg your pardon--I really beg--'

'I suppose this is not the first visit with which you have honoured me?'

'The first--indeed--I assure you--the very first! A foolish curiosity; I
really feel quite ashamed of myself; I throw myself upon your indulgence.'

The man had become voluble; he approached Miss Rodney smiling in a sickly
way, his head bobbing forward.

'It's something,' she replied, 'that you have still the grace to feel
ashamed. Well, there's no need for us to discuss this matter; it can have,
of course, only one result. To-morrow morning you will oblige me by giving
notice to Mrs. Turpin--a week's notice.'

'Leave the house?' exclaimed Rawcliffe.

'On Saturday next--or as much sooner as you like.'