"Is that you, Mr. Harding?"
The dim figure of a man was apparent, standing a little back and half concealed by a darkness of drooping curtains.
"It is I—Evelyn Malling," said Malling.
The form at the window started.
"Mr. Malling!" the words came uncertainly. "What is it? Has—has anything happened to—why do you want me at such an hour?"
"I chanced to be in your street and saw your light. I thought I would give you a hail."
"Do you mean that you want to come in?"
After a short pause Malling answered, "Yes."
"I cannot let you in!" the voice above cried out lamentably.
Then the window was shut very softly.