There is something of still greater importance to be told before I bring the story of my adventure to the present day. I am on the track of a mystery which appears to me to be in some strange way connected with the crime. Heaven only knows where it will lead me, but I shall follow it up without flinching, whatever the consequences may be. A week after I entered Mrs. Preedy's service she said to me; "Becky, we've got another lodger." "Goodness be praised," I cried. "The sight of so many empty rooms in the house is dreadful. And such a loss to you!" "You may well say that Becky," said Mrs. Preedy, with a woeful sigh; "it's hard to say what things will come to if they go on much longer like this." "I hope it's more than _one_ lodger," I observed; "I hope it's a family." "No, Becky," she replied, "it's only one--a man; he's taken the attic at three shillings a week, and between you and me and the post, I shall reckon myself lucky if I get it. I can't say I like the looks of him, but I can't afford to be too nice." When I saw the man, who gives himself out as Richard Manx, I liked the looks of him as little as my mistress. He is dark-complexioned, and has long black hair; there is a singular and most unnatural look in his eyes--they are cat's eyes, and shift from side to side stealthily--not to be trusted, not for a moment to be trusted! He has black whiskers and a black moustache; and he has large, flat feet. The moment I saw him he inspired me with an instinctive repugnance towards him; I regarded him with an aversion which I did not trouble myself to examine and justify. I believe in first impressions. So strong was my feeling that I said to Mrs. Preedy I hoped I should not have to wait upon him. "He does not require waiting upon," said Mrs. Preedy, "he has taken the garret, without attendance. He says that he will not even trouble us to make his bed or sweep out his room." "So much the better," thought I, and I did my best not to meet him. I must do him the justice to say that he appeared as anxious to avoid me as I was to avoid him; and for a fortnight we did not exchange a word. And now, my dear, prepare for an inconsistency, and call me a bundle of contradictions. I have made up my mind no longer to avoid Richard Manx; I have made up my mind to worm myself, if I can, in his confidence; I have made up my mind not to lose sight of him, unless, indeed, he suddenly disappears from the house and the neighbourhood, and so puts it out of my power to watch his movements. "Why?" I hear you ask. "Have you discovered that your first impressions are wrong, and, having done an injustice to an unfortunate man, are you anxious to atone for it?" Not a bit of it! I am more than ever confirmed in my prejudices with regard to Richard Manx. I shall watch his movements, and no longer avoid him--not for his sake--for yours, for mine! An enigma, you say. Very well. Wait!