It was a family hotel in a quiet but handsome street near Hyde Park. As the brilliant light of the lamp which burnt before its door, guided her to the spot, the clock struck eleven. She had loitered for a few paces as though irresolute, and making up her mind to advance; but the sound determined her, and she stepped into the hall. The porter’s seat was vacant. She looked round with an air of incertitude, and advanced towards the stairs.

“Now, young woman!” said a smartly-dressed female, looking out from a door behind her, “who do you want here?”

“A lady who is stopping in this house,” answered the girl.

“A lady!” was the reply, accompanied with a scornful look. “What lady?”

“Miss Maylie,” said Nancy.

The young woman, who had by this time, noted her appearance, replied only by a look of virtuous disdain; and summoned a man to answer her. To him, Nancy repeated her request.