"Is your business so urgent, then?" asked Frank in surprise.
"Yes. I want—perhaps you could help me. I know no one here—"
"Where are you living?"
"Nowhere. I only arrived here early this morning, and I have—I have no money."
He was shivering from standing in the cold during this short dialogue, and seemed to shrink into himself, almost fawning, like a cowed dog.
"Come in with me," said Frank, greatly astonished, but full of sympathy and of the affectionate reminiscences of his boyhood. "Come and spend the night with me."
"Oh, gladly!" was the reply, eager and tremulous, as if he feared that the heaven-inspired words might be retracted.
They went together a few steps further; then Frank took a key out of his pocket, the key of White-Rose Cottage. He opened the door; a hexagonal Moorish lantern was burning low, and shed a soft light in the hall.
"Go in," said Frank; And he locked the door and bolted it behind them. It was half-past twelve.
The maid had not yet gone to bed.