"I am sitting in my room at the hotel. It is the fourth night after Paul's last crazed performance upon the Thames. I see no natural or logical coherence between Paul's disappearance and that of these interesting strangers, but cannot free myself from this queer conviction. I am feeling an uneasy sense of the mysterious. What is transpiring at Northfield?"
There is a timid tap! Going to the door, he is surprised to see a veiled female figure. The woman steps into the room.
Making a hurried, nervous apology for her strange conduct, she urges Charles to go home without delay. "There may be danger to those you love."
Much mystified and alarmed by such unlooked-for warning, he begs for an explicit statement.
The reply rebukes him.
"Is it not enough that I come to warn you? Must I explain private matters? Would I come thus without good reason? Why not act promptly and ask no questions?"
These hurried interrogatories are both command and appeal. Charles promptly apologizes, giving assurances that he will at once heed her warning. In persuasive tones he asks:
"May I see you again?"
The answer comes:
"Possibly. I must decide that."