He was on his way now to Harris's house. He meant to pay pretty Connie a visit, and when with her he would put to her a pointed question.
It was nearly three o'clock when he reached Westminster. A few minutes later he found himself on the landing outside Connie's rooms. Here, however, he was again a little puzzled, for he wanted to see Connie and not to see Giles. Taking a long time about it, he managed to set the closed door ajar. He looked in. Connie and Giles were both within. Connie was mending her father's socks; Giles was reading aloud to her. Neither of them had noticed the slight creaking noise he had made in opening the door. He ventured on a very slight cough.
This sound was heard; the reading ceased.
"Come in," said Connie.
This he must not do. He waited an instant, then creaked the door again.
"Dear, dear! I made certain I had shut that door," said Connie.
At this she rose unsuspiciously. "Jest wait a minute, Giles dear. I didn't catch that last bit."
She ran to the door to put it to. Pickles placed his foot in her way.
The obstacle caused her to look into the passage. There a boy, very red by nature, and with his natural color now much intensified by hard running, stood awaiting her.
He pointed to the door, put his finger to his lips, then rushed down the first flight of stairs, where he turned round, and beckoned to her to follow him.