The day after the funeral, George Tresslyn called to see his sister.

He found that it required a new sort of courage on his part to enter the house, even after his hesitation about pressing the door-bell.

He was not afraid of any living man, and yet he was oppressed by the uncanny fear that Templeton Thorpe was still alive and waiting somewhere in the dark old house, ready to impose further demands upon his cupidity.

The young man was none too steady beforehand, and now he was actually shaking.

When Murray opened the door, he was confronted by an extremely pallid visitor who shot a furtive look over his head and down the hall before inquiring whether Mrs.Thorpe was at home.
"She is, Mr.George," said Murray.