Suddenly, after a brief preliminary scale of piano notes, a woman’s clear, practised voice fell upon the silence in a song—a grave and simple melody full of tenderness. They paused to listen for an instant, and Vestalia traced the sound to an illuminated upper floor at the end of the square.
“Then people live here!” she said, with hesitating re-assurance in her voice.
“Bless you, yes,” replied David. “We live here, among others.”
He entered the open doorway of the house next to that before which they had paused. The hall was lighted by a single gas-jet at the rear, which only deepened the darkness of the narrow staircase up which he led the way. It was a very ancient and ricketty staircase, with steps worn into queer bumps and hollows by generations of feet. There was not room for her to walk abreast of her guide. He strode ahead, striking matches on the wall as he went. She followed him timorously up the winding ascent, noting the rows of names painted on the big closed doors of each landing they passed.
Mosscrop stopped only when the stairs came to an end. He put down the bag, and she heard the rattle of a key in a lock. Then a match was struck, and a sudden flare of gas lit up the small square hall-way they stood in.
As he pushed open a door to the left, he turned with a smiling face towards his companion. He discovered her drawn back at the edge of the stairs, her hands pressed against her bosom. Her eyes were fastened on him with a troubled look, and the sound of her breathing, quick and laboured, reached his ears.
“These stairs are the very deuce when you’re not used to them,” he said, pleasantly. “I oughtn’t to have rushed you up them at such a pace.”
“That doesn’t matter,” panted the girl. “It is I who mightn’t to have come up at all.”
David’s smile deepened and mellowed as he regarded her. “My dear Vestalia,” he began, laying a slight and kindly stress upon this first use of her name, “you speak hastily. You must offer no further remarks until you have quite recovered your breath. I will employ the interval by calling your attention to the inscription on the closed door, there, opposite to mine. You will observe that it is ‘Mr. Linkhaw.’ Have you ever heard it before?”
She shook her head.