to do."

O'Day shook his head.

"Vell, den, say eight o'clock."

Again O'Day shook his head slowly and thoughtfully as if some
insurmountable obstacle had suddenly arisen before him. Then he said
firmly: "I am afraid I must decline your kind offer, Mr. Kling. The
latest I could stay on any evening is seven o'clock--some days I might
have to leave at six--certainly no later than half past. I suppose you
have dinner at seven, Mrs. Cleary?"

Kitty nodded. She was too interested in this new phase of the situation
to speak.

"Yes, seven would have to be the hour, Mr. Kling" said O'Day.

"Vell, make it seven o'clock, den."

"And if," he continued in a still more serious voice, "I should on
certain days--absent myself entirely, would that matter?"

Otto was being slowly driven into a corner, but he determined not to
flinch with Kitty standing by. "No, I tink I git along vid my little
Beesvings."

O'Day studied the pavement for an instant, then looked into space as
if seeking to clear his mind of every conflicting thought, and said at
last, slowly and deliberately: "Very well. Then I will be with you in
the morning at nine o'clock. Now, good day, Mrs. Cleary. I know we will
get on very well together, and you, too, Mr. Kling. Thank you for your
confidence." Then, turning to the Irishman: "Don't forget, Mike, that
the street-door is open and that I'm up two flights. You will find the
number on this card."

Chapter IV

The customary scene took place when Felix, late that afternoon, handed
his landlady the overdue rent. Now that the two crisp bills which O'Day
owed her lay in her hand, she was ready to pass them back to him if the
full payment at all embarrassed him. Indeed, she had never had a more
quiet and decent lodger, and she hoped it didn't mean he was "goin'
away," and, if she was rather sharp with him the night before, it was
because she had been "that nervous of late."

But Felix, ignoring her overtures, only shook his head in a good-natured
way. He would begin packing at once, and the express wagon would be here
at six. She would know it by the white horse which the man was driving.
When his trunks were finished he would put them outside his bedroom
door, and please not to forget his mackintosh and leather hat-case which
he would leave inside the room.

So the packing began. First the sole-leather trunk, from which he had
taken the hapless dressing-case the night before, was pulled out and the