“I am speaking of myself,” said the old man, and there came into his face a curious expression of dignity. “I say, and I maintain, that a gentleman is a gentleman whatever company he affects. At my old college I once reproved an undergraduate.” He was speaking with stately, almost pompous distinctness. “I said, ‘There is an axiom to which I would refer you, _De gustibus non est disputandum_, and--and----’” His shaking fingers went up again to the tell-tale mouth, and the vacant smile came back. “Look here,” said Connor, shaking his arm, “we don’t want to know anything about your damned college; we want to know how Angel got into our crib.” The old man looked puzzled. “Yes, yes,” he muttered; “of course, Mr. Connor, you have been most kind--the crib--ah!--the young man who wanted to rent or hire the room upstairs.” “Yes, yes,” said Connor eagerly. “A most admirable young man,” old George rambled on, “but very inquisitive. I remember once, when I was addressing a large congregation of young men at Cheltenham--or it may have been young ladies--I----” “Curse the man!” cried Goyle in a fury. “Make him answer, or stop his mouth.” Connor warned him back. “Let him talk in his own way,” he said. “This admirable person,” the old man went on, happily striking on the subject again, “desired information that I was not disposed to give, Mr. Connor, remembering your many kindnesses, particularly in respect to one Mr. Vinnis.” “Yes, go on,” urged Connor, and the face of Vinnis was tense. “I fear there are times when my usually active mind takes on a sluggishness which is foreign to my character--my normal character”--old George was again the pedant--“when the unobservant stranger might be deceived into regarding me as a negligible quantity. The admirable young man so far treated me as such as to remark to his companion that there was a rope--yes, distinctly a rope--for the said Mr. Vinnis.” The face of Vinnis was livid. “And,” asked Connor, “what happened next? There were two of them, were there?” The old man nodded gravely; he nodded a number of times, as though the exercise pleased him. “The other young man--not the amiable one, but another--upon finding that I could not rent or hire the rooms--as indeed I could not, Mr. Connor, without your permission--engaged me in conversation--very loudly he spoke, too--on the relative values of cabbage and carrot as food for herbaceous mammals. Where the amiable gentleman was at that moment I cannot say----” “I can guess,” thought Connor. “I can remember the occasion well,” old George continued, “because that night I was alarmed and startled by strange noises from the empty rooms upstairs, which I very naturally and properly concluded were caused----” He stopped, and glancing fearfully about the room, went on in a lower tone. “By certain spirits,” he whispered mysteriously, and pointed and leered first at one and then another of the occupants of the room.