"That's what I want you to find out for me, sir, if I can so fur trespass. Don't refuse me, sir, don't! It's a deal to ask you to do, I know, but I shall be everlastingly grateful." "I am ready to serve you, Fanny," I said gravely, "but at present I am completely in the dark. For instance, this is the first time I have seen those Mephistophelian-looking objects with which you have chosen to decorate your room." "I didn't choose, sir. It was done, and I daredn't go agin it." "I have nothing to say to that; I must wait for your explanation. What I was about to remark was, why that evil-beaked bird----" "Which I wish," she interposed, "had been burnt before it was stuffed." "----Should bear so strange a resemblance," I continued, "to the portrait of your husband, and why both should bear so strange a resemblance to the stone monster on your mantelshelf, is so very much beyond me, that I cannot for the life of me arrive at a satisfactory solution of the mystery. Surely it cannot spring from a diseased imagination, for you have the same fancy as myself." "It ain't fancy, sir; it's fact. And the sing'lar part of it is that the party as brought them all three into the house is as much like them as they are to each other." "We're getting on solid ground," I said. "The party who brought them into the house--who gave you the stone monster, who painted your husband's portrait and yours, who stuffed the bird; for, doubtless, he was the taxidermist. An Admirable Crichton, indeed, in the way of accomplishments! You see, Fanny, you are introducing me to new acquaintances. You have not mentioned this party before. A man, I presume." "I suppose so, sir," she said, with an awestruck look. "Why suppose?" I asked. "In such a case, supposition is absurd. He is, or is not, a man." "Let us call him so, sir. It'll make things easier." "Very much easier, and they will be easier still if you will be more explicit. I seem to be getting more and more in the dark. In looking again upon your portrait, Fanny----" "Yes, sir?" "I can almost discern a likeness to----" "For the merciful Lord's sake, sir," she cried, "don't say that! If I thought so, I should go mad. I'm scared enough already with what has occurred and the trouble I'm in--and Lemon talking in his sleep all the night through, and having the most horrible nightmares--and me trembling and shaking in my bed with what I'm forced to hear--it's unbearable, sir; it's unbearable!" I was becoming very excited. Unless Mrs. Lemon had lost her senses, there was in this common house a frightful and awful mystery. And Mrs. Lemon had sent for me to fathom it! What was I about to hear--what to discover? I strove to speak in a calm voice. "You say your husband took to his bed yesterday, and that you fear he will never rise from it. Then he is in bed at this moment?" "Yes, sir." "Where is his bedroom?" "On the first floor back, sir." "Can he hear us talking?" "No, sir." "And you want me to see him?"