The girl looked incredulous, and passed her hand over the wall in her
turn. Then she shook her head.

"I can feel nothing," said she. "It must be your fancy. There is no room
there. It is the ground-floor of an old warehouse next door which has
been to let for years and years--longer than this."

He still looked doubtful, and she added, sharply:

"You can see for yourself if you like."

As she spoke, she was turning to go back into the outhouse, with a sign
to him to follow her. But even as she did so, another thought must have
struck her, for she shut the door and turned back again.

"No," she said, decisively, "of course you don't want to see anything so
much as the outside of this gloomy old house. Don't think me ungrateful;
I am not, but"--she came a little nearer to Max, so that she could
whisper very close to his ear--"if Granny knew that I'd let a stranger
into the place while she was away, I should never hear the last of it;
and--and--when she's angry I'm afraid of her."

Max felt a pang of compassion for the girl.

"If you are afraid of her being angry," said he, "you had better let her
see me and hear my explanation. I can make things right with her. I have
great powers of persuasion--with old ladies--I assure you; and you don't
look as if you were equal to a strife of tongues with her or with
anybody just now; and I'd forgotten; I've brought something for you."