bserver would have noticed at once that there
had been no letters waiting for him when he had arrived, and would
have inferred either that he did not mean to stay at the rooms
twenty-four hours, or that, if he did, he had not chosen to let any
one know where he was.

Presently it occurred to him that there was no longer any light in
the room except from the fire, and he rose and lit the gas. The
incandescent light sent a raw glare into the farthest corners of the
large room, and just then a tiny wreath of white steam issued from the
spout of the kettle. This did not escape Mr. Van Torp's watchful eye,
but instead of making tea at once he looked at his watch, after which
he crossed the room to the window and stood thoughtfully gazing
through the panes at the fast disappearing outlines of the roofs and
chimney-pots which made up the view when there was daylight outside.
He did not pull down the shade before he turned back to the fire,
perhaps because no one could possibly look in.

But he poured a little hot water into the teapot, to scald it, and
went to the cupboard and got another cup and saucer, and an old
tobacco-tin of which the dingy label was half torn off, and which
betrayed by a rattling noise that it contained lumps of sugar. The
imaginary thoughtful observer already mentioned would have inferred
from all this that Mr. Van Torp had resolved to put off making tea
until some one came to share it with him, and that the some one
might take sugar, though he himself did not; and further, as it was
extremely improbable, on the face of it, that an afternoon visitor
should look in by a mere chance, in the hope of finding some one in
Mr. Isidore Bamberger's usually deserted rooms, on the fourth floor of
a dark building in Hare Court, the observer would suppose that Mr. Van
Torp was expecting some one to come and see him just at that hour,
though he had only landed in Liverpool that day, and would have been
still at sea if the weather had been rough or foggy.

All this might have still further interested Paul Griggs, and would
certainly have seemed suspicious to Margaret, if she could have known
about it.

Five minutes passed, and ten, and the kettle was boiling furiously,
and sending out a long jet of steam over the not very shapely toes of
Mr. Van Torp's boots, as he leaned back with his feet on the fender.
He looked at his watch again and apparently gave up the idea of
waiting any longer, for he rose and poured ou