mouldings.

For Guest was intent upon his own thoughts.

"Look here," he said suddenly; "about Brettison?"

Stratton turned upon him uneasily.

"This is a rum world, Mal, old fellow."

"What do you mean?" said Stratton.

"Only this: Brettison's rich--a man worth a good deal, and men of that
stamp generally have people who take a good deal of notice of them."

"Naturally," said Stratton, with a curious laugh.

"Suppose, then, he has come to grief. I mean, suppose some gang have
got hold of him on his way back here and made an end of him."

"Absurd!" said Stratton, with a curious laugh. "Nonsense!"

"Such things have been done. When did he go out?"

"I do not know."

"Don't be huffy with your devoted servant, Mal. Tell me this--has he
been back since--er--that day?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. He is a man who goes in and out as silently as
a cat."

"But he used to come in and see you often?"

Stratton coughed to clear a huskiness from his throat.

"Yes; but he has not been to see me lately," he said hurriedly. "I am
going home now."

"This is home, man."

Stratton suppressed a shudder, and Guest pitied him as he thought of two
attempts made upon his life.

"It is too gloomy--too depressing for me."

"Give up the chambers, then, and take some more pleasant ones."

"No, no; I should not care about the trouble of moving. I am used to
them, too."

He laid his hand upon the lamp, and Guest was obliged to take the hint
and rise to go.

"That's right," he said; "put the lamp out safe. This is an ugly old
place, but it would be horrible if the place were burned down."

"Yes--horrible--horrible!" said Stratton, with a shudder.

"Much more horrible if anyone slept in the place, eh?"

"If anybody slept in the place?" said Stratton with a ghastly look.

"Yes--lodgers. There is somebody upstairs on the second floor, isn't
there?"

"Yes," said Stratton huskily, "but only in the day time." He withdrew
his hand from the lamp, and looked round, to Guest's great delight; for
he was taking an evident interest in the topic his friend had started,
and his eyes roved from object to object in the room.

"Work of a good many years' saving and collecting here, old chap, eh?"

"Yes; of many, many years," said Stratton thoughtfully.

"And all your bits of antique furniture, too. Mustn't have a fire here,
old fellow. I say," he continued, tapping a glass jar in which a kind
of lizard was suspended i