This time I was sure it came from somewhere on the lower floor, and mindful of Mrs.Clery's queer ways, I stole downstairs to her door.

She was up--that was plainly enough to be seen.

But what was she doing?
I was just a little frightened, or I would have knocked on the door and asked.
As I was waiting for the passing by of the next train, my last lodger came in and caught me standing there before Mrs.Clery's door.

I know him pretty well; so I put my finger to my lips and then beckoned him to join me.

As the train approached, I seized him by the arm and pointed toward Mrs.Clery's door.