th was doing now also reminded her in an odd way of a
play she had once seen--a play to which a young man had taken her
when she was a girl, unnumbered years ago, and which had thrilled
and fascinated her. "Out, out, damned spot!" that was what the tall,
fierce, beautiful lady who had played the part of a queen had said,
twisting her hands together just as the lodger was doing now.

"It's a fine day," said Mr. Sleuth, sitting down and unfolding his
napkin. "The fog has cleared. I do not know if you will agree with
me, Mrs. Bunting, but I always feel brighter when the sun is shining,
as it is now, at any rate, trying to shine." He looked at her
inquiringly, but Mrs. Bunting could not speak. She only nodded.
However, that did not affect Mr. Sleuth adversely.

He had acquired a great liking and respect for this well-balanced,
taciturn woman. She was the first woman for whom he had experienced
any such feeling for many years past.

He looked down at the still covered dish, and shook his head. "I
don't feel as if I could eat very much to-day," he said plaintively.
And then he suddenly took a half-sovereign out of his waistcoat pocket.

Already Mrs. Bunting had noticed that it was not the same waistcoat
Mr. Sleuth had been wearing the day before.

"Mrs. Bunting, may I ask you to come here?"

And after a moment of hesitation his landlady obeyed him.

"Will you please accept this little gift for the use you kindly
allowed me to make of your kitchen last night?" he said quietly.
"I tried to make as little mess as I could, Mrs. Bunting, but--
well, the truth is I was carrying out a very elaborate experiment."

Mrs. Bunting held out her hand, she hesitated, and then she took
the coin. The fingers which for a moment brushed lightly against
her palm were icy cold--cold and clammy. Mr. Sleuth was evidently
not well.

As she walked down the stairs, the winter sun, a scarlet ball
hanging in the smoky sky, glinted in on Mr. Sleuth's landlady, and
threw blood-red gleams, or so it seemed to her, on to the piece of
gold she was holding in her hand.

******

The day went by, as other days had gone by in that quiet household,
but, of course, there was far greater animation outside the little
house than was usually the case.

Perhaps because the sun was shining for the first time for some
days, the whole of London seemed to be making holiday in that part
of the town.

When Bunting at last came back, his wife listened silently