se everybody! Go! go! Mr. Denzil, and leave me
to die here like a rat in its hole!"

"You are ill!" said Lucian, amazed by the man's fury. "Shall I send a
doctor to see you?"

"Send no one," cried Berwin, commanding himself by a visible effort.
"Only go away and leave me to myself. 'Thou can'st not minister to a
mind diseased.' Go! go!"

"Good-night, then," said Denzil, seeing that nothing could be done. "I
hope you will be better in the morning."

Berwin shook his head, and with a silent tongue, which contrasted
strangely with his late outcry, ushered Denzil out of the house.

As the heavy door closed behind him Lucian descended the steps and
looked thoughtfully at the grim mansion, which was tenanted by so
mysterious a person. He could make nothing of Berwin--as he chose to
call himself--he could see no meaning in his wild words and mad
behaviour; but as he walked briskly back to his lodgings he came to the
conclusion that the man was nothing worse than a tragic drunkard,
haunted by terrors engendered by over-indulgence in stimulants. The
episode of the shadows on the blind he did not attempt to explain, for
the simple reason that he was unable to find any plausible explanation
to account therefor.

"And why should I trouble my head to do so?" mused Lucian as he went to
bed. "The man and his mysteries are nothing to me. Bah! I have been
infected by the vulgar curiosity of the Square. Henceforth I'll neither
see nor think of this drunken lunatic," and with such resolve he
dismissed all thoughts of his strange acquaintance from his mind, which,
under the circumstances, was perhaps the wisest thing he could do.

But later on certain events took place which forced him to alter his
determination. Fate, with her own ends to bring about is not to be
denied by her puppets; and of these Lucian was one, designed for an
important part in the drama which was to be played.

Mrs. Margery Kebby, who attended to the domestic economy of Berwin's
house, was a deaf old crone with a constant thirst, only to be assuaged
by strong drink; and a filching hand which was usually in every pocket
save her own. She had neither kith nor kin, nor friends, nor even
acquaintances; but, being something of a miser, scraped and screwed to
amass money she had no need for, and dwelt in a wretched little
apartment in a back slum, whence she daily issued to work little and
pilfer much.

Usually at nine o'clock she brought in her employer's breakf