How long I sat there, paralized with emotion, I do not know. Hannah
came out and roused me from my Trance of grief. She is a kindly soul,
although to afraid of mother to be helpful.

"Come in like a good girl, Miss Bab," she said. "There's that fruit
salad that cook prides herself on, and I'll ask her to brown a bit of
sweetbread for you."

"Hannah," I said in a low voice, "there is a Crime being committed in
this neighborhood, and you talk to me of food."

"Good gracious, Miss Bab!"

"I cannot tell you any more than that, Hannah," I said gently, "because
it is only being done now, and I cannot make up my Mind about it. But of
course I do not want any food."

As I say, I was perfectly gentle with her, and I do not understand why
she burst into tears and went away.

I sat and thought it all over. I could not leave, under the
circumstances. But yet, what was I to do? It was hardly a Police matter,
being between friends, as one may say, and yet I simply could not bare
to leave my Ideal there in that damp bath-house without either food or,
as one may say, raiment.

About the middle of the afternoon it occurred to me to try to find a key
for the lock of the bath-house. I therfore left my Studio and proceded
to the house. I passed close by the fatal building, but there was no
sound from it.