He pictured the cold food probably laid out within, and his imagination struck into being a tall glass jug of something like claret-cup, still half-full.

Frank had not dined to-day.
Then he limped boldly across the street, rapped with the cast-iron knocker, and waited.
Nothing at all happened.
* * * * * Presently the cat from the notice-board appeared round the corner, eyed Frank suspiciously, decided that he was not dangerous, came on, walking delicately, stepped up on to the further end of the brick stair, and began to arch itself about and rub its back against the warm angle of the doorpost.

Frank rapped again, interrupting the cat for an instant, and then stooped down to scratch it under the ear.

The cat crooned delightedly.

Steps sounded inside the house; the cat stopped writhing, and as the door opened, darted in noiselessly with tail erect past the woman who held the door uninvitingly half open.
She had a thin, lined face and quick black eyes.
"What do you want ?" she asked sharply, looking up and down Frank's figure with suspicion.