Only a few frowns from the admiral and a severe shake of the head over their wine a day or two later, as, in obedience to a summons more than an invitation, Guest dined with him and his sister, Edie having her dinner with her cousin in Myra’s room.

“I felt as if I ought to say a deal to you, young man,” growled the admiral; “but poor Myra has given me my orders, and I must be mum. Take some more wine.”

Guest took some more claret with pleasure, and thought that the subject was to be changed, but it was not, for Sir Mark suddenly turned to him:

“I say: look here, my lad,” he said. “This Stratton: is he mad?”

“No,” said Guest sharply: “certainly not.”

“Then what the deuce is the matter with him?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out, Sir Mark.”

But the days went by, and Guest appeared to get no farther, save only that Stratton, in a despairing way, ceased to resent his friend’s determination to be with him. He even went so far, one evening in his room in Sarum Street, as to show some return of his old confidence, for he tossed a letter across the table.

“Read that,” he said.

Guest took it, and saw that it was from the governors of the great institution, suggesting that Stratton should resign his post for a twelvemonth, and go away on half salary to recoup his health.

“Humph! Can’t say I’m surprised,” said Guest. “Have you written?”

“Yes, and resigned entirely.”

“Where’s the letter?” said Guest eagerly. “Gone?”

“No; it is here.”

“Let’s look.”

Stratton handed him the letter, and Guest tore it up.

“Write that you accept their considerate proposal.”

“I cannot.”

“But you shall.”

“If I wrote so, I should feel bound to leave town.”

“Very good. I’ll go with you—to the South Pole if you like.”

“I shall never leave London,” said Stratton gravely.

“Then stop here and get well. Write.”

The weaker will obeyed the stronger, and, with a sigh of satisfaction, Guest pocketed the letter to post.

“By the way,” he said, “I came through the inn to-night on the chance of finding you there.”

Stratton’s face grew stony.

“And old Mother Brade got hold of me to practice her tongue upon.”

Stratton was silent, and sat gazing straight before him.

“Hadn’t you better let the old woman have a general clean up?”

“I pay the rent of those chambers,” said Stratton almost fiercely, “to do with them as I please. No!”

“All right; tell her to go to Jericho, then. But look here, she was asking me about Mr Brettison.”

Stratton’s countenance changed a little, either from excitement or interest in his friend’s words.

“Isn’t it strange that he doesn’t come back?”

“I don’t know. No. He is peculiar in his ways. Sometimes I have not seen him for months together.”

“Oh,” said Guest quietly; and soon after he left.

It was about a week later that, on going to the inn one evening, Guest was caught again by the porter’s wife.

“Which I won’t keep you a minute, sir, but would you mind answering me one question?”

“If I can,” said Guest, knocking the ashes from his cigar.

“Then is Mr Stratton coming back soon to the inn, sir?”

“I can’t tell you, Mrs Brade.”

“Then can you tell me where Mr Brettison is, sir?”

“That’s two questions, Mrs Brade.”

“Well, yes, sir, it is; but if you only knew the agony I suffer from the thought of those two sets of chambers being allowed to go to rack and ruin, you’d pity me.”

“Well, it does seem tiresome to any lady of orderly mind, of course.”

“It’s ’orrid, sir. There’s the dust, and the soot falling down the chimbleys without a bit of fire, and the mice, and, for aught I know, the rats. Really, sir, there are times when I almost wish the chambers was empty, that I do.”

“Well, have patience, Mrs Brade,” said Guest. “I think I can see an improvement in Mr Stratton, and I hope soon to get him to come back—but I don’t know when it’s likely to be,” he muttered as he crossed the square on the chance of seeing a light in his friend’s window, and this time it was there.

He hurried up to find, after knocking several times, that Stratton had evidently only just come, for he was standing there in overcoat and hat, and he would have stepped out at once had not Guest shown so decided an intention of coming in.

“Do you want me?” said Stratton uneasily; and Guest’s heart sank, for his friend looked more careworn than ever.

“Yes,” he said; “I wanted to talk to you about something particular.”

“Yes—what?” said Stratton sharply.

“Surely you were not coming away, and about to leave that lamp burning?”

“Was I going to leave the lamp burning?” said Stratton absently. “I suppose I forgot.”

“Well, don’t do that, then. This house is so full of wood that if it caught fire it would burn like tinder.”

“You think so?” said Stratton with a curious look in his eyes.

“That I do. In half an hour there wouldn’t be one of your preparations left. They, your furniture, the bric-à-brac, and your specimens in spirits, would be consumed and in ashes in no time.”

The strange look in Stratton’s eyes intensified, but Guest did not notice it, nor yet that his companion was letting his eyes wander around the old carved panelling with its oaken archi............