Even had she wished to do so, she had neither the time nor the power
to warn her lodger of his danger, for Daisy and her companion were
now coming down the room, bearing straight for the Commissioner of
Police. In another moment Mrs. Bunting's lodger and Sir John Burney
were face to face.

Mr. Sleuth swerved to one side; there came a terrible change over
his pale, narrow face; it became discomposed, livid with rage and
terror.

But, to Mrs. Bunting's relief--yes, to her inexpressible relief
--Sir John Burney and his friends swept on. They passed Mr. Sleuth
and the girl by his side, unaware, or so it seemed to her, that
there was anyone else in the room but themselves.

"Hurry up, Mrs. Bunting," said the turnstile-keeper; "you and your
friends will have the place all to yourselves for a bit." From an
official he had become a man, and it was the man in Mr. Hopkins that
gallantly addressed pretty Daisy Bunting: "It seems strange that a
young lady like you should want to go in and see all those 'orrible
frights," he said jestingly.

"Mrs. Bunting, may I trouble you to come over here for a moment?"

The words were hissed rather than spoken by Mr. Sleuth's lips.

His landlady took a doubtful step towards him.

"A last word with you, Mrs. Bunting." The lodger's face was still
distorted with fear and passion. "Do not think to escape the