He was not afraid of scares now. He knew that on the days when he went to the Willows he was still supposed by his wife and mother-in-law to be "at the office." And so, technically, he was. After all, he had simply transferred his papers from a precarious desk corner at the New Hour to the sanctuary of Miss Lorburn's library. He no longer needed Mrs. Tracy's keys (those damned keys!) for Halo Tarrant had her own, and was always there before him. He did not remember how that tacit arrangement had been established, nor at whose suggestion he and she, when the afternoon's work was over, invariably restored every book to its place, locked up the manuscript in a cupboard below the bookshelves, and buried their cigarette ends in the border outside of the window. On the day when Mrs. Tarrant had first surprised him in the library Vance had confessed that his wife and mother-in-law did not know of his coming to the Willows to work, and had told her his reasons for keeping his visits secret. She had understood in a flash—when did she not?—and all their subsequent precautions had grown out of that brief avowal, without any comment or question that he could remember.