yself to be frightened out of rooms which suit me very nicely. It
would be a little too feeble for me to move out all my goods and
chattels because you say that Bellingham might in some unexplained way
do me an injury. I think that I'll just take my chance, and stay where I
am, and as I see that it's nearly five o'clock, I must ask you to excuse
me."

He bade the young student adieu in a few curt words, and made his way
homeward through the sweet spring evening, feeling half-ruffled,
half-amused, as any other strong, unimaginative man might who has been
menaced by a vague and shadowy danger.

There was one little indulgence which Abercrombie Smith always allowed
himself, however closely his work might press upon him. Twice a week, on
the Tuesday and the Friday, it was his invariable custom to walk over to
Farlingford, the residence of Doctor Plumptree Peterson, situated about
a mile and a half out of Oxford. Peterson had been a close friend of
Smith's elder brother Francis, and as he was a bachelor, fairly
well-to-do, with a good cellar and a better library, his house was a
pleasant goal for a man who was in need of a brisk walk. Twice a week,
then, the medical student would swing out there along the dark country
roads, and spend a pleasant hour in Peterson's comfortable study,
discussing, over a glass of old port, the gossip of the 'varsity or the
latest developments of medicine or of surgery.

On the day which followed his interview with Monkhouse Lee, Smith shut
up his books at a quarter past eight, the hour when he usually started
for his friend's house. As he was leaving his room, however, his eyes
chanced to fall upon one of the books which Bellingham had lent him, and
his conscience pricked him for not having returned it. However repellent
the man might be, he should not be treated with discourtesy. Taking the
book, he walked downstairs and knocked at his neighbour's door. There
was no answer; but on turning the handle he found that it was unlocked.
Pleased at the thought of avoiding an interview, he stepped inside, and
placed the book with his card upon the table.

The lamp was turned half down, but Smith could see the details of the
room plainly enough. It was all much as he had seen it before--the
frieze, the animal-headed gods, the hanging crocodile, and the table
littered over with papers and dried leaves. The mummy case stood upright
against the wall, but the mummy itself was missing. There was no sign o