their appearance, but his eyes immediately sought Valentine’s face, still apparently questioning it with avidity.  Julian noticed this, and recollected that the man had insisted on a likeness existing between Marr and Valentine.  Possibly that fact, although apparently unremembered, had remained lurking in his mind, and was accountable for his own curious deception.  Or could it be that there really was some vague, fleeting resemblance between the dead man and the living which the landlord saw continuously, he only at moments?  Looking again at Valentine he could not believe it.  No; the landlord was deceived now, as he had been in the death-chamber above stairs.

“May we come into your room for a moment?” Julian asked the man.  “I want to put to you a few questions.”

“But certainly, sir, with pleasure.”

He opened the side door and showed them into his sanctum beyond the glass window.  It was a small, evil-looking room, crowded with fumes of stale tobacco.  On the walls hung two or three French prints of more than doubtful decency.  A table with a bottle and two or three glasses ranged on it occupied the middle of the floor.  On a chair by the fire the Gil Bias was thrown in a crumpled attitude.  One gas-burner flared, unshaded by any glass globe.  Julian sat down on the Gil Bias.  Valentine refused the landlord’s offer of a chair, and stood looking rather contemptuously at the inartistic improprieties of the prints.

“Did you let in the gentleman who came last night?” asked Julian.

“But, sir, of course.  I am always here.  I mind my house.  I see that only respect-”

“Exactly.  I don’t doubt that for a moment.  What was the lady like,—­the lady who accompanied him?”

“Oh, sir, very chic, very pretty.”

“Didn’t you hear her go out in the night?”

The landlord looked for a moment as if he were considering the advisableness of a little bluster.  He stared hard at Julian and thought better of it.

“Not a sound, not a mouse.  Till the bell rang I slept.  Then she is gone!”

“Would you recognize her again?”

“But no.  I hardly look at her, and I see so many.”

“Yes, yes, no doubt.  And the gentleman.  When you went into his room?”

“Ah!  He was half sitting up.  I come in.  He just look at me.  He fall back.  He is dead.  He say nothing.  Then I—­I run.”

“That’s all I wanted to know,” Julian said.  “Valentine, shall we go?”

“By all means.”

The landlord seemed relieved at their decision, and eagerly let them out into the pouring rain.  When they were in the dismal strip of garden Julian turned and looked up at the lit windows of the bedroom on the first story.  Marr was lying there in the bright illumination at ease, relieved of his soul.  But, as Julian looked, the two windows suddenly grew dark.  Evidently the economical landlord had hastened up, observed the waste of the material he had to pay for, and abruptly stopped it.  At the gate they called a cab.