ear; still, he somehow contrived
to keep no more than a fortnight behind with his rent. Waymark was
studying this creature, and found in him the strangest matter for
observation; in Slimy there were depths beyond Caliban, and, at the
same time, curious points of contact with average humanity,
unexpectedly occurring. He was not ungrateful for the collector's
frequent forbearance, and, when able to speak coherently, tried at
times to show this. Waymark had got into the habit of sitting with him
in his room for a little time, whenever he found him at home. Of late,
Slimy had seemed not quite in his usual health; this exhibited itself
much as it would in some repulsive animal, which suffers in captivity,
and tries to find a remote corner when pains come on. At times Waymark
experienced a certain fear in the man's presence; if ever he met the
dull glare of that one bleared blood-shot eye, a chill ran through him
for a moment, and he drew back a little. Personal uncleanliness made
Slimy's proximity at all times unpleasant; and occasionally his gaunt,
grimed face grew to an expression suggestive of disagreeable
possibilities.

On the present day, Waymark was told by a woman who lived on the
ground-floor that Slimy had gone out, but had left word with her, in
case the collector called, that he should be back in less than
half-an-hour. Doubtless this meant that the rent was not forthcoming.
The people who lived on the first floor were out as usual, but had left
their rent. Of the two rooms at the top, one was just now vacant.
Waymark went on to the two or three houses that remained. On turning
back, he met Slimy at the door; the man nodded in his wonted way,
grinning like a grisly phantom, and beckoned Waymark to follow him
upstairs. The woman below had closed her door again, and in all
probability no one observed the two entering together.

Waymark sat down amid the collection of nondescript articles which
always filled the room, and waited for the tenant to produce his rent.
Slimy seemed to have other things in mind. After closing the door, he
too had taken a seat, upon a heap of filthy sacking, and was running
his fingers through the shock of black hair which made his beard.
Waymark examined him. There was no sign of intoxication, but something
was evidently working in the man's mind, and his breath came quickly,
with a kind of asthmatic pant, from between his thin lips, still parted
in the uncanny grin.

"Mr. Waymark," h