w I
came to forget to lock it."

"I didn't know you kept a dog," said Smith, looking very thoughtfully
at the disturbed face of his companion.

"Yes, I haven't had him long. I must get rid of him. He's a great
nuisance."

"He must be, if you find it so hard to shut him up. I should have
thought that shutting the door would have been enough, without locking
it."

"I want to prevent old Styles from letting him out. He's of some
value, you know, and it would be awkward to lose him."

"I am a bit of a dog-fancier myself," said Smith, still gazing hard at
his companion from the corner of his eyes. "Perhaps you'll let me have
a look at it."

"Certainly. But I am afraid it cannot be to-night; I have an
appointment. Is that clock right? Then I am a quarter of an hour late
already. You'll excuse me, I am sure."

He picked up his cap and hurried from the room. In spite of his
appointment, Smith heard him re-enter his own chamber and lock his door
upon the inside.

This interview left a disagreeable impression upon the medical
student's mind. Bellingham had lied to him, and lied so clumsily that
it looked as if he had desperate reasons for concealing the truth.
Smith knew that his neighbour had no dog. He knew, also, that the step
which he had heard upon the stairs was not the step of an animal. But
if it were not, then what could it be? There was old Styles's
statement about the something which used to pace the room at times when
the owner was absent. Could it be a woman? Smith rather inclined to
the view. If so, it would mean disgrace and expulsion to Bellingham if
it were discovered by the authorities, so that his anxiety and
falsehoods might be accounted for. And yet it was inconceivable that
an undergraduate could keep a woman in his rooms without being
instantly detected. Be the explanation what it might, there was
something ugly about it, and Smith determined, as he turned to his
books, to discourage all further attempts at intimacy on the part of
his soft-spoken and ill-favoured neighbour.

But his work was destined to interruption that night. He had hardly
caught tip the broken threads when a firm, heavy footfall came three
steps at a time from below, and Hastie, in blazer and flannels, burst
into the room.

"Still at it!" said he, plumping down into his wonted arm-chair. "What
a chap you are to stew! I believe an earthquake might come and knock
Oxford into a cocked hat, and you would