oreover, the idea had piquancy.
The bedroom was sparsely furnished. Instead of a wardrobe it had a
corner curtained off with cretonne.

"A good-sized room," said Mr. Haim.

"Very," said George. "Two windows, too, like the drawing-room." Then
they went upstairs to the first floor, and saw two more bedrooms, each
with two windows. One of them was Miss Haim's; there was a hat hung on
the looking-glass, and a table with a few books on it. They did not go
to the second floor. The staircase to the second floor was boarded up at
the point where it turned.

"That's all there is," said Mr. Haim on the landing. "The studio people
have the second floor, but they don't use my front door." He spoke the
last words rather defiantly.

"I see," said George untruthfully, for he was mystified. But the mystery
did not trouble him.

There was no bathroom, and this did not trouble him either, though at
Bedford Park he could never have seriously considered a house without a
bathroom.

"You could have your choice of ground floor or first floor," said Mr.
Haim confidentially, still on the landing. He moved the lamp about, and
the shadows moved accordingly on the stairs.

"Oh, I don't mind in the least," George answered. "Whichever would suit
you best."

"We could give you breakfast, and use of sitting-room," Mr. Haim
proceeded in a low tone. "But no other meals."

"That would be all right," said George cheerfully. "I often dine in
town. Like that I can get in a bit of extra work at the office, you
see."

"Except on Sundays," Mr. Haim corrected himself. "You'd want your meals
on Sundays, of course. But I expect you're out a good deal, what with
one thing or another."

"Oh, I am!" George concurred.

The place was perfect, and he was determined to establish himself in it.
Nothing could baulk him. A hitch would have desolated him completely.

"I may as well show you the basement while I'm about it," said Mr. Haim.

"Do!" said George ardently.

They descended. The host was very dignified, as invariably at the
office, and his accent never lapsed from the absolute correctness of an
educated Londoner. His deportment gave distinction and safety even to
the precipitous and mean basement stairs, which were of stone worn as by
the knees of pilgrims in a crypt. All kinds of irregular pipes ran about
along the ceiling of the basement; some were covered by ancient layers
of wall-paper and some were not; some were painted yellow, and some w