m about Mrs. Smith or not:
however, probably he was aware of her existence already, and it could do
no harm to mention it.

"Did you know that there was a woman living down in the basement here?"
he asked.

"I didn't know there was one here; but it's not a very rare occurrence
in this part of London, nor any other part of London, if it comes to
that."

"If you hear any row going on down there," said Michael, "you had better
interfere at once."

"Who with?" Barnes inquired indignantly.

"With the row," said Michael. "If the woman is being badly treated on
account of money she owes, you must let me know immediately."

"Well, I'm not in the old tear's secret, am I?" asked Barnes, in an
injured tone. "You can't expect me to go routing about after every old
fly-by-night stuck in a basement."

"I'm particularly anxious to know that she is all right," Michael
insisted.

"Oh well, of course, if she's a friend of yours, Fane, that's another
matter. If it's any little thing to oblige you, why certainly I'll do
it."

Michael said good-bye and left him in bed. Then he called in to see the
Solutionist, who was also in bed.

"I've got a commission for you," said Michael.

The Solutionist's watery eyes brightened faintly.

"You're fond of animals, aren't you?" Michael went on. "I see you
feeding your Belgian hares. Well, I'm interested in a cat who
appreciated my point of view. I want you to see that this cat has a
quart of milk left for her outside Mrs. Smith's door every morning. Mrs.
Smith lives in the basement. You must explain to her that you are fond
of animals; but you mustn't mention me. Here's a check for five pounds.
Spend half this on the cat and the other half on your rabbits."

The Solutionist held the check between his tremulous fingers.

"I couldn't cash this nowadays," he said helplessly. "And get a quart of
milk for a cat? Why, the thing would burst."

"All right. I'll send you postal orders," said Michael. "Now I'm going
away for a bit. Never mind if a quart is too much. I want that amount
left every day. You'll do what I ask? And you'll promise not to say a
word about me?"

The Solutionist promised, and Michael left him looking more completely
puzzled than he had ever seen him.

Michael could not bring himself to the point either of going down into
the basement or of calling to Mrs. Cleghorne from the entrance to her
cave; and as the bell-pull in his room had never been mended, he did not
kno