aused
surprise, and surprise was what the young man showed, as he answered
briskly:

"Yes, this is to be my castle. Are you the owner of the buildings? If
so--"

"I am not the owner. I live next door. Haven't I seen you before, young
man?"

Never was there a more penetrating eye than Orlando Brotherson's. As he
asked this question it took some effort on the part of the other to hold
his own and laugh with perfect naturalness as he replied:

"If you ever go up Henry Street it's likely enough that you've seen me
not once, but many times. I'm the fellow who works at the bench next the
window in Schuper's repairing shop. Everybody knows me."

Audacity often carries the day when subtler means would fail. Brotherson
stared at the youth, then ventured another question:

"A carpenter, eh?"

"Yes, and I'm an A1 man at my job. Excuse my brag. It's my one card of
introduction."

"I've seen you. I've seen you somewhere else than in Schuper's shop. Do
you remember me?"

"No, sir; I'm sorry to be imperlite but I don't remember you at all.
Won't you sit down? It's not very cheerful, but I'm so glad to get out
of the room I was in last night that this looks all right to me. Back
there, other building," he whispered. "I didn't know, and took the room
which had a window in it; but--" The stop was significant; so was his
smile which had a touch of sickliness in it, as well as humour.

But Brotherson was not to be caught.

"You slept in the building last night? In the other half, I mean?"

"Yes, I--slept."

The strong lip of the other man curled disdainfully.

"I saw you," said he. "You were standing in the window overlooking the
court. You were not sleeping then. I suppose you know that a woman died
in that room?"

"Yes; they told me so this morning."

"Was that the first you'd heard of it?"

"Sure!" The word almost jumped at the questioner. "Do you suppose I'd
have taken the room if--"

But here the intruder, with a disdainful grunt, turned and went out,
disgust in every feature,--plain, unmistakable, downright disgust, and
nothing more!

This was what gave Sweetwater his second bad night; this and a certain
discovery he made. He had counted on hearing what went on in the
neighbouring room through the partition running back of his own closet.
But he could hear nothing, unless it was the shutting down of a window,
a loud sneeze, or the rattling of coals as they were put on the fire.
And these possessed no signif