after he left.

It was about a week later that, on going to the inn one evening, Guest
was caught again by the porter's wife.

"Which I won't keep you a minute, sir, but would you mind answering me
one question?"

"If I can," said Guest, knocking the ashes from his cigar.

"Then is Mr Stratton coming back soon to the inn, sir?"

"I can't tell you, Mrs Brade."

"Then can you tell me where Mr Brettison is, sir?"

"That's two questions, Mrs Brade."

"Well, yes, sir, it is; but if you only knew the agony I suffer from the
thought of those two sets of chambers being allowed to go to rack and
ruin, you'd pity me."

"Well, it does seem tiresome to any lady of orderly mind, of course."

"It's 'orrid, sir. There's the dust, and the soot falling down the
chimbleys without a bit of fire, and the mice, and, for aught I know,
the rats. Really, sir, there are times when I almost wish the chambers
was empty, that I do."

"Well, have patience, Mrs Brade," said Guest. "I think I can see an
improvement in Mr Stratton, and I hope soon to get him to come back--
but I don't know when it's likely to be," he muttered as he crossed the
square on the chance of seeing a light in his friend's window, and this
time it was there.

He hurried up to find, after knocking several times, that Stratton had
evidently only just come, for he was standing there in overcoat and hat,
and he would have stepped out at once had not Guest shown so decided an
intention of coming in.

"Do you want me?" said Stratton uneasily; and Guest's heart sank, for
his friend looked more careworn than ever.

"Yes," he said; "I wanted to talk to you about something particular."

"Yes--what?" said Stratton sharply.

"Surely you were not coming away, and about to leave that lamp burning?"

"Was I going to leave the lamp burning?" said Stratton absently. "I
suppose I forgot."

"Well, don't do that, then. This house is so full of wood that if it
caught fire it would burn like tinder."

"You think so?" said Stratton with a curious look in his eyes.

"That I do. In half an hour there wouldn't be one of your preparations
left. They, your furniture, the _bric-a-brac_, and your specimens in
spirits, would be consumed and in ashes in no time."

The strange look in Stratton's eyes intensified, but Guest did not
notice it, nor yet that his companion was letting his eyes wander around
the old carved panelling with its oaken architraves and heavy plinths
and