“Now，then，“hesaid，“tellClydewhatyoucan；buttheletterkilleth。“
Hesankdown，hishandshangingonthearmofthesettleliketheclawsofadeadbird，hiseyesfixedonWyant\'snotebookwiththeobviousintentionofdetectinganyattemptatasurreptitioussketch。
Wyant，nettledatthissurveillance，anddisturbedbythespeculationswhichDoctorLombard\'sstrangehouseholdexcited，satmotionlessforafewminutes，staringfirstatthepictureandthenattheblankpagesofthenote-book。ThethoughtthatDoctorLombardwasenjoyinghisdiscomfitureatlengthrousedhim，andhebegantowrite。
Hewasinterruptedbyaknockontheirondoor。DoctorLombardrosetounlockit，andhisdaughterentered。
ShebowedhurriedlytoWyant，withoutlookingathim。