"I _cannot_ think what he does here," exclaimed Charles. "If he had any evil intentions, he--he would have acted upon them before now." "You mean as to yourself, Charley. Rely upon it, you are out of the matter altogether." "Who's in it, then?" "Myself, perhaps." The answer was given quietly and easily: but there was something in its tone that kept Charles from regarding it as a jest. "_You_ are not in debt, are you, Frank?" he cried hastily. "Not that I know of." "I declare for the moment I thought you must be in earnest," said Charles, relieved. "It is uncommonly strange what the fellow can want here!" Frank said no more. They paced about for some time, without their hats, in the bright moonlight, talking of other matters. In crossing the path to the house; they met Jetty the carpenter coming away from it, a frail in his hand, out of which a saw was standing upright. The man had been doing some repairs indoors. "Jetty," said Charles, accosting him, and speaking upon impulse, "who is the man that lodges with you? The fellow with the great brown beard, who goes about in a suit of grey." "I don't know who he is in particular, sir," replied Jetty. "He is a very quiet lodger, and pays regular." "What is he down here for?" "Well, I think for his health," said Jetty. "He told us he had not been well for some time before he came to Grassmere." "What is his name?" "That I don't know, sir----" "Not know his name?" interrupted Charles, impatiently. "Well, sir, I was going to say that I don't know it from himself. He is uncommonly close as to his own affairs: though he likes well enough to hear about other people's. As to his name, he did not mention it when he first came in, and my sister said she did not like to ask him. But----" "I never knew such a thing as not knowing a lodger's name," went on Charles, getting excited over it, whilst Frank stood by in perfect silence. "Does the man not get any letters?" "Yes, sir. But they don't come to the house; they are left at the post-office in Grassmere, and he fetches them himself. The other morning, when Esther went into his parlour, he was reading one of these letters, and the cover lay on the table, address upwards. She was not quick enough to read the name on it, for he took it up, but she saw it was a short name and began with a G." "Grim, no doubt," said Charles. "'Mr. G----, Post Office, Grassmere.' That was it, sir." "I must say I should like to know who he is and what he is doing here," continued Charles. "Good-night, Jetty." Jetty touched his cap and went away with rapid strides. Drawing near to his home, he overtook the Tiger, sauntering along with slow steps. "You are late to-night, Jetty." "Yes, sir," replied the carpenter, suiting his pace to that of the speaker. "I had to put some new shelves into one of the kitchen cupboards at Eagles' Nest, and it has taken me longer than I thought for." "All going on well there?" continued the Tiger.