A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. ‘Very well,’ he said, lowering his own weapon. ‘Because she, naturally enough, does not consider that it is in any way my affair.
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