Mrs. Balmer noticed that Mr. Crawford, as she talked, kept staring at the portieres and watching them and that he seemed very nervous. The next morning, when she was straightening up the room, Mrs. Balmer looked behind the portières. An old straw hat, an old coat, a few worn shirts hung from the hooks. There was nothing else but the folding-door and this was not only locked but nailed up. When two months had passed Mrs. Balmer had made a discovery. It had to do with the four kerosene lamps and the extra large electric bulb and the portières. But it was an irritating discovery, since it made everything more mysterious than ever in the landlady's mind. She had caught many glimpses of this man in the back room when he wasn't looking. Of evenings he sat with his door opened and his eyes fastened on the portières. He would sit like that for hours and his leathery face would become gray. His little eyes would widen and his body would hunch up as if he were stiffening. But nothing happened. Finally, however, Mrs. Balmer began to talk. She didn't like this man Crawford. It made her nervous to catch a glimpse of him in his too-brightly lighted room, sitting hour after hour staring at the portières--as if there was something behind them, when there was nothing behind them except an old hat and coat and shirt. She looked every morning. But he paid his rent regularly. He left in the morning regularly and always returned at eight o'clock. He was an ideal roomer--except that there never is an ideal roomer--but Mrs. Balmer couldn't stand his lights and his watching the portières. It frightened her. * * * * * Screams sometimes sound in a rooming-house. One night--it was after midnight--Mrs. Balmer woke up. The darkened house seemed filled with noises. A man was screaming. Mrs. Balmer got dressed and called the janitor. There was no doubt in her mind where the noises came from. Some of the roomers were awake and looking sleepily and frightenedly out of their doorways. Mrs. Balmer and the janitor hurried to the back room on the third floor. It was Crawford screaming. His door was closed, but it opened when the janitor turned the knob. Mr. Crawford was standing in front of the portières in the too-brightly lighted room and screaming. His arms, as if overcoming some awful resistance, shot out, and his hands seized the portières. With the amazing screams still coming from his throat, Mr. Crawford tore crazily at the portières until they ripped from the rod above the folding-door. They came down and the man fell with them. Over him, hanging on the "clothes-closet" hooks, were revealed an old straw hat, an old coat and a worn shirt. * * * * *