To-day he had the house to himself.

The corn-dealers shop was closed, as on a Sunday; the optician and his blind wife had locked up their rooms and were spending Easter-tide, it might be hoped, amid more cheerful surroundings.

Hilliard sat with his door open, that he might easily hear the knock which announced his guests at the entrance below.
It sounded, at length, but timidly.

Had he not been listening, he would not have perceived it.

Eve's handling of the knocker was firmer than that, and in a different rhythm.