"Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. Easily. She did not see Sebastian turn towards the boy and his family, but every hair on the back of her neck stood up rigidly. Her hormones were raging stupidly. "As it's getting late, and the porter may be gone to bed," he observed; "I'll take the pass-key, and let myself in.
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