Towards evening, I escaped again, and flew to Barnard's Green.

It wanted nearly an hour to the time of performance; but the tuning of a violin was audible from within, and the money-taker was already there with his pipe in his mouth and his hands in his pockets.

I had no courage to address that functionary; but I lingered in his sight and sighed audibly, and wandered round and round the canvas walls that hedged my divinity.

Presently he took his pipe out of, his mouth and his hands out of his pockets; surveyed me deliberately from head to foot, and said:-- "Hollo there! aint you the party that brought a three-cornered letter here last evening!" I owned it, falteringly.
He lifted a fold in the canvas, and gave me a gentle shove between the shoulders.
"Then you're to go in," said he, shortly.

"She's there, somewhere.
You're sure to find her." The canvas dropped behind me, and I found myself inside.