Mrs. Krent swarmed up the steps with an agility surprising in so stout a woman. Tearing the heavy door from her daughter’s grasp, she flung it to and dropped in an untidy heap on to the pavement.

The door, however, simply swung against the foot of the man, who was determined to enter, and a moment afterwards he was standing over the frightened housekeeper, by this time dissolved in tears.

‘This is a nice welcome, upon my word!’ said Krent, alias Polwin, and in a bullying tone, quite different to his meekness in the presence of Forde. ‘Get up, Maria, and don’t make a fool of yourself.’

‘Who are you?’ asked Jenny, coming to the aid of her mother.

‘I’m your father, Samuel Krent,’ retorted the man.

‘Oh, liar — liar, seeing Jenny’s name is Ward,’ moaned Mrs. Krent.

‘I understood that her name was Bowring,’ said the returned wanderer cheerfully. ‘Get up, Maria; I have much to say.’

‘I shall sit here for ever,’ gasped Mrs. Krent, and placed one fat hand on her aching side.

‘If you don’t go,’ said Jenny, striving to screw her small pale pretty face into a severe look, ‘I’ll call the men and have you thrown out.’

‘A nice way to treat your father, my girl.’

‘You are not my father, and I am not your girl,’ was Jenny’s remarkable spirited reply; ‘address me with all respect as Mrs. Bowring.’

‘Oh Mrs. Bowring,’ he bowed ironically, ‘I ask you pardon. Will you be so pleased as to ask my wife to rise and conduct herself less like a fool.’

‘Morgan,’ cried Jenny, while Mrs. Krent still wept bitterly on the cold black and white pavement.

A thin whimper, like a kicked dog, answered her, and from a side room appeared Morgan, creeping along the wall, with a hanging head and hunched shoulders. His face was white, and his lips redder than ever, and he looked exactly like a vampire as depicted in Hungarian legends.

With strange, lifeless eyes he gazed at his pretty wife and then at Mrs. Krent grovelling on the stone floor.

‘A nice son to inherit John Bowring’s money,’ laughed Polwin jeeringly.

Morgan’s eyes settled on the lean, sneering face of the little man, and a look of recognition crept into them.

‘Polwin,’ he said in his thin, high voice, which was like that of a child. ‘I saw you in St. Ewalds. Yes; I remember. Jenny left me in the trap while she was shopping and you spoke to me. You told me to say nothing of having seen you.’

‘Polwin,’ echoed Mrs. Krent, struggling to rise and getting on her knees. ‘Eb, that name — Sir Hannibal’s steward?’

‘Quite so,’ said Polwin. ‘I have been acting as his steward for quite sixteen months.’

‘To think that you should have been so near and I never knew,’ wailed Mrs. Krent. ‘I would have put the ocean between us had I known.’

‘Oh, I don’t want you,’ said Polwin insolently; ‘all I wish for is a conversation, and then I’ll go.’

‘Swear to leave the house this very night and I’ll talk to you,’ said his wife, getting on to her feet.

‘I promise without swearing,’ said Polwin in a sanctimonious tone. ‘Be calm, Maria, I am not what I was. As Samuel Krent I was lost, as Josiah Polwin I am found; I preach at the Gwynne Chapel.’

‘Oh, Lord, the devil quoting Scripture!’ muttered Mrs. Krent; ‘it’s all right, Jenny,’ she added, seeing the look of fear on her daughter’s face; ‘I’d better talk to him lest worse befall.’

‘A nice greeting,’ snarled Polwin, ‘when I’ve come to do you a good turn, you ungrateful woman.’

‘You!’ Mrs. Krent laughed. ‘You never did man, woman or child a good turn in all your wicked days, Samuel Krent.’

‘Josiah Polwin, if you please,’ he snapped, ‘that being my real name.’

‘Oh!’ sighed the housekeeper; ‘you didn’t even marry me straight. I am glad Jenny is not your child.’

‘So am I,’ said Polwin, contemptuously. ‘A whey-faced minx.’

Morgan made an angry noise in his throat. ‘That’s my little girl,’ he gurgled, clasping and unclasping his hands; ‘leave her alone or I’ll tear the heart out of you.’

Polwin stepped back a step, as the look in the man’s eyes was not pleasant. Jenny laughed triumphantly.

‘You see, I am protected, Mr. Polwin, or Krent, or whatever you like to call yourself,’ and took her husband’s arm.

‘I am not afraid of your husband,’ said Polwin, with his eyes on the white, vacant face of the idiot; ‘you know me, Morgan?’

‘Yes; I saw you in St. Ewalds.’

‘And?’ said Polwin, fixing him with anything but a meek look.

‘And,’ echoed Morgan, drooping lower and lower as though a burden was being piled on his shoulders; ‘and — oh!’— he flung out his hands and covered his eyes —‘don’t look. I’ll be good — I’ll be good. Jenny,’ he tugged at his wife’s dress, ‘come away. He’s the big, red devil. He’s a witch-doctor, same as I saw in Africa. Oh, the scarlet skull — oh, the fire and — no — no!’ As Polwin still kept looking at him he dropped on all fours like a beast, and crept swiftly up the stairs, moaning all the time, ‘I’ll be good — I’ll be good.’

When his wailing died away Mrs. Krent, whose face was as white as paper, faced her small husband boldly.

‘What does this devilry mean?’

‘Never you mind, Maria,’ he replied quietly. ‘Morgan saw something in Cape Town that wasn’t pleasant.’

‘The Death’s Head?’

‘Never you mind,’ said Polwin again, then suddenly became irritable. ‘Here, take me in and give me wine and food. I’m tired of talking in damp clothes, and hungry. Jenny,’ he turned sharply on the girl, ‘go!’

Mrs. Bowring stood her ground, although her face was also white, and she trembled from head to foot. The effect of Polwin’s gaze on the usually intractable Morgan had frightened her not a little. ‘I stand by my mother,’ she faltered.

Mrs. Krent moved forward and patted her hand. ‘Go, deary,’ she whispered, wetting her dry lips with her tongue. ‘I’d best speak him fair.’

‘See here,’ said Polwin with a stamp, ‘you’re making a fuss about nothing; I’ve come to give you money.’

‘I don’t want it,’ said Mrs. Krent; ‘me and Jenny have two thousand a year. Yes, you may look and look, but Miss Trevick has given us —’

‘Where did Miss Trevick get the money?’ asked Polwin, and his pale eyes became two pinholes as they narrowed dangerously.

‘From her father, I suppose. Sir Hannibal got Bowring’s fortune.’

‘Yes, but Sir Hannibal wouldn’t —’ He stopped and gnawed his fingers with a thoughtful look. ‘There’s more in this man than I know of,’ he said suspiciously; ‘come away, Maria and tell me everything. If you don’t I’ll stay with you for the rest of my blessed life.’

‘Oh, Lord! oh, Lord!’ cried the terrified woman; ‘not that, Krent.’

‘Polwin, you fool. I don’t choose to be known as Krent here.’

‘Polwin, then.’

‘Mr. Polwin. Be respectful.’

‘Mr. Polwin,’ whimpered Mrs. Krent, terrified to death by the devilish look which the little man cast upon her. ‘Jenny, love, go to Morgan and keep him quiet.’

‘I wish Morgan would kill you,’ cried Jenny, mounting the stairs and facing Polwin for one moment.

He laughed in a nasty, sneering way.

‘I dare say you do, but I’m not so easy got rid of. If Morgan isn’t quiet tell him that the black man with the crowned skull will come to him.’

Jenny wondered what this threat might mean, but giving no answer disappeared round the landing on her way to the idiot. Mrs. Krent sighed heavily, pushed open the door of the sitting-room and walked in, followed by her undesirable husband. With a dragging step the poor woman went to the fire at the end of the room and put one foot on the high fender to dry her boots. Polwin snarled, and darting forward he twisted her arm until she shrieked.

‘Get food,’ said he, grinning at the pain of her expression; ‘do you think I’m here to wait on you? Have you any servants?’

‘Three,’ whimpered Mrs. Krent, standing before him like an elephant before a cock sparrow.

‘Where are they?’

‘In bed by this time.’

‘Then let them stay there. I don’t want it known that I am here. As Sir Hannibal’s steward I have to keep my good name. Go and get me some food and drink, and hold your tongue.’

‘Yes, yes, Samuel.’

‘Polwin, I tell you; Mr. Polwin to a slut like you.’

The big woman hurried away as quickly as her tottering legs would allow her. Polwin gazed after her with a smile of satisfaction, and then............