able grunt from the gouty, red-faced man whose
biography had been more justly than politely abridged for the new-comer.

Johanson had no luggage to deposit. He thanked his conductor for the
trouble he had taken, and then seated himself on a wooden chair on his
side of the room, and had evidently no further need of his guide, who
promptly disappeared.

Johanson seemed gazing out of the window, but was really seeing nothing,
while quite lost in his own thoughts, and altogether forgetful of his
companion.

There was a pounding on the floor, followed by a rumbling sound, as of
some one preparing to speak, and then the other occupant of the room
said roughly: "Here, you! Do you see that crack across the middle of the
floor, with three big, dark knots in the middle on each side of it?
That's my landmark. You come over it, and there'll be mischief!"

"I shall take great pleasure in attending to your wishes. It is not
likely that I shall visit you often," said Johanson, rising and bowing
with much politeness, and then promptly resuming his seat.

The next step of the new lodger was to take a small, carefully-covered
book from his pocket. The gilt edges, dulled by time, were, however,
observed by the watchful spectator, a prisoner in his chair. The fine
print and the divided verses were evident to his keen eyes, that
twinkled in their red frames with an uncanny light. "No hypocrisy here!
it don't take. Put up that book, or I'll throw my friend here at you. I
never miss, so look out!" He touched the club-like stick beside him.

Johanson quickly put his hand in his breast-pocket and took out a small
revolver. "Here is _my_ friend," he said. "I never miss with this in my
hand!" He spoke coolly, but his eyes were fearless and determined. "You
let me alone, and I'll let you alone. I want to live peaceably. I shall
do what I please on my side of the room, and I want no meddling from
you."

The cellar-master understood at once that he had here a person not to be
trifled with, and from that day there was no difficulty between them.

The revolver may or may not have been loaded, but the sight of it had
been enough for the cellar-master, as for many a "rough" before.

As to the little woman who had given Johanson so ungracious a reception
on his first appearance in her room, he had evidently taken an aversion
to her society. When she came into his duplicated quarters, he was
always looking out into the street, or so occupied that