and ingenious nature. And now the dull, distant symptoms of
Mr. Haim on the stairs suddenly halted him at the very outset of his
benignant machinations. He listened. If the peace of the world had
depended upon his washing-up he could not have permitted himself to be
actually seen in the role of kitchen-girl by Mr. Haim--so extreme was
his lack of logic and right reason. There was a silence, a protracted
silence, and then Mr. Haim unmistakably came down the basement stairs,
and George thanked God that he had not allowed his impulse to wash-up
run away with his discretion, to the ruin of his dignity.

Mr. Haim, hesitating in the kitchen doorway, peered in front of him as
if at a loss. George had shifted the kitchen lamp from its accustomed
place.

"I'm here," said George, moving slightly in the dim light. "I thought I
might as well make myself useful and clear the table for you. How is she
going on?" He spoke cheerfully, even gaily, and he expected Mr. Haim to
be courteously appreciative--perhaps enthusiastic in gratitude.

"Mrs. Haim is quite recovered, thank you. It was only a passing
indisposition," said Mr. Haim, using one of his ridiculously stilted
phrases. His tone was strange; it was very strange.

"Good!" exclaimed George, with a gaiety that was now forced, a bravado
of gaiety.

He thought:

"The old chump evidently doesn't like me interfering. Silly old pompous
ass!" Nevertheless his attitude towards the huffy landlord, if scornful,
was good-humoured and indulgent.

Then he noticed that Mr. Haim held in his hand a half-sheet of
note-paper which disturbingly seemed familiar. "What is the meaning of
this, Mr. Cannon?" Mr. Haim demanded, advancing towards the brightness
of the lamp and extending the paper. He was excessively excited.
Excitement always intensified his age.

The offered document was the letter which George had that morning
received from Marguerite. The missive was short, a mere note, but its
terms could leave no doubt as to the relations between the writer and
the recipient. Moreover, it ended with a hieroglyphic sign, several
times repeated, whose significance is notorious throughout the civilized
world.

"Where did you get that?" muttered George, with a defensive menace half
formed in his voice. He faltered. His mood had not yet become
definitive.

Mr. Haim answered:

"I have just picked it up in the hall, sir. The wind must have blown it
off the table in your room, and the door was