cigarette, and tries the rhythm of the last sentence, holding up
a sheet of quarto MS.

MALISE. "Not a word, not a whisper of Liberty from all those
excellent frock-coated gentlemen--not a sign, not a grimace. Only
the monumental silence of their profound deference before triumphant
Tyranny."

While he speaks, a substantial woman, a little over middle-age,
in old dark clothes and a black straw hat, enters from the
corridor. She goes to a cupboard, brings out from it an apron
and a Bissell broom. Her movements are slow and imperturbable,
as if she had much time before her. Her face is broad and dark,
with Chinese eyebrows.

MALISE. Wait, Mrs. Miller!

MRS. MILER. I'm gettin' be'ind'and, sir.

She comes and stands before him. MALISE writes.

MRS. MILER. There's a man 'angin' about below.

MALISE looks up; seeing that she has roused his attention, she
stops. But as soon as he is about to write again, goes on.

MRS. MILER. I see him first yesterday afternoon. I'd just been out
to get meself a pennyworth o' soda, an' as I come in I passed 'im on
the second floor, lookin' at me with an air of suspicion. I thought
to meself at the time, I thought: You're a'andy sort of 'ang-dog man.