breathless
surprise. "He speaks as if he knew you!" she cried. "What does it mean?"

"Only that I met him last night," I explained, "after leaving you."

"Did you know him before that?"

"No. He was a perfect stranger to me."

He picked up his book from the table, and took his pencil out of
Cristel's hand, while we were speaking. "I want my answer," he said,
handing me the book and the pencil. I gave him his answer.

"You find me here, because I don't wish to return to your side of the
house."

"Is that the impression," he asked, "produced by what I allowed you to
read?"

I replied by a sign in the affirmative. He inquired next if I had brought
his portfolio with me. I put it at once into his hand.

In some way unknown to me, I had apparently roused his suspicions. He
opened the portfolio, and counted the loose leaves of writing in it
carefully. While he was absorbed in this occupation, old Toller's
eccentricity assumed a new form. His little restless black eyes followed
the movements of his lodger's fingers, as they turned over leaf after
leaf of the manuscript, with such eager curiosity and interest that I
looked at him in surprise. Finding that he had attracted my notice, he
showed no signs of embarrassment--he seized the opportunity of asking for
information.

"Did my gentleman trust you, sir, with all that writing?" he began.

"Yes."

"Did he want you to read it?"

"He did."

"What's it all about, sir?"

Confronted by this cool inquiry, I informed Mr. Toller that the demands
of curiosity had their limits, and that he had reached them. On this
ground, I declined to answer any more questions. Mr. Toller went on with
his questions immediately.

"Do you notice, sir, that he seems to set a deal of store by his
writings? Perhaps you can say what the value of them may be?"

I shook my head. "It won't do, Mr. Toller!"

He tried again--I declare it positively, he tried again. "You'll excuse
me, sir? I've never seen his portfolio before. Am I right if I think you
know where he keeps it?"

"Spare your breath, Mr. Toller. Once more, it won't do!"

Cristel joined us, amazed at his pertinacity. "Why are you so anxious,
father, to know about that portfolio?" she asked.

Her father seemed to have reasons of his own for following my example and
declining to answer questions. More polite, however, than I had been, he
left his resolution to be inferred. His daughter was answered by a few
general remarks, se