With a beating heart Sisily gained the shelter of her room and locked the door, her eyes glancing quickly around her.

She did not expect to see anything there, but she had reached the stage of instinctive terror when one fears lurking shadows, unexpected noises, or an imagined alteration in the contour of familiar things.

There was nothing in the room to alarm her, and her thoughts flew back to the face of the man she had seen in the street outside.

The owner of the face had leered at first, and then his glance hardened into suspicion as he looked.

When she hurried past him he had shifted his position to stare at her by the light of the street lamp.
Had he followed her?
That was the question she could not answer.