He was still in his evening dress, except his coat, which he had thrown
across a chair. His shirt-sleeves were turned up at the wrists, but no
higher. A carpet-bag was on one side of him, and a box on the other.
Books, papers, and articles of wearing apparel were scattered about the
room. On a table, at one side of the door, stood the cage, so well
known to me by description, which contained his white mice. The
canaries and the cockatoo were probably in some other room. He was
seated before the box, packing it, when I went in, and rose with some
papers in his hand to receive me. His face still betrayed plain traces
of the shock that had overwhelmed him at the Opera. His fat cheeks
hung loose, his cold grey eyes were furtively vigilant, his voice,
look, and manner were all sharply suspicious alike, as he advanced a
step to meet me, and requested, with distant civility, that I would
take a chair.

"You come here on business, sir?" he said. "I am at a loss to know
what that business can possibly be."

The unconcealed curiosity, with which he looked hard in my face while
he spoke, convinced me that I had passed unnoticed by him at the Opera.
He had seen Pesca first, and from that moment till he left the theatre
he had evidently seen nothing else. My name would necessarily suggest
to him that I had not come into his house with other than a hostile
purpose towards himself, but he appeared to be utterly ignorant thus
far of the real nature of my errand.

"I am fortunate in finding you here to-night," I said. "You seem to be
on the point of taking a journey?"

"Is your business connected with my journey?"

"In some degree."

"In what degree? Do you know where I am going to?"

"No. I only know why you are leaving London."

He slipped by me with the quickness of thought, locked the door, and
put the key in his pocket.

"You and I, Mr. Hartright, are excellently well acquainted with one
another by reputation," he said. "Did it, by any chance, occur to you
when you came to this house that I was not the sort of man you could
trifle with?"

"It did occur to me," I replied. "And I have not come to trifle with
you. I am here on a matter of life and death, and if that door which
you have locked was open at this moment, nothing you could say or do
would induce me to pass through it."

I walked farther into the room, and stood opposite to him on the rug
before the fireplace. He drew a chair in front of the