He stood up suddenly, listening.
There was a distant ring of a bell.
Anthony hurriedly folded his handkerchief over the scraps of food, and thrust them into his pocket.
He strode towards Pangbutt as though to say something—hesitated—he could not bring himself to ask for money. There was a second peal at the bell.
“I must be off,” he said—“I hear visitors.”
And waving his hand to Pangbutt he stepped quickly to the doorway.
When he reached the door he again hesitated—shook his head—and letting himself quietly out, closed the door gently after him.
Paul Pangbutt was alone.
He stood brooding.
His lips moved into a complacent smile: