Mr. Sheldrake did not finish his speech, but he had said enough to strike terror to Muzzy, who sat before him shaking and trembling with fear. "I asked you," continued Mr. Sheldrake, after a sufficient pause, "a little while ago if it was possible you could keep sober were it worth your while." "I remember, sir." "And you told me, as you told me just now, that you had given up drink." Muzzy's only answer was a frightened, nervous look. "Look here, old man," exclaimed Mr. Sheldrake sternly, "once and for all--no more of your lies to me. You've been drinking to-night. I saw you hide the bottle as I came into the room." "There's no concealing anything from you, sir," said Muzzy, in an imploring tone. "I felt lonely, and I _did_ buy a little--not much, upon my soul, sir!--and I tried to keep from it, but wasn't quite able. If Lizzie had been here----" "Lizzie?" "The girl in the next room, sir. If she had been at home I shouldn't have tasted a drop. But what can an old man do, in such a place as this, with not a soul to speak to? It is a terrible lonely life, sir, and grows worse and worse as one grows older. If I wasn't afraid, I'd kill myself, but I'm frightened of death--I'm frightened of death." Muzzy shook and shuddered and raised his feeble hand; had he been alone, with this fear upon him, he would undoubtedly have emptied his bottle of gin in a very short time. Mr. Sheldrake, with an air of thoughtfulness, lit a cigar, and slowly paced the room for a few moments. Pausing before the trembling old man, he said, "This girl Lizzie, how old is she?" "About eighteen I should say, sir; but I don't exactly know." "Where are her parents?" "She has none, sir." "Does she live alone?" "Yes, sir." "How does she get her living?" "By the sewing-machine, sir; and sometimes goes out to work." The sound of laughing voices on the stairs stopped this cross-examination. A look of astonishment flashed into the eyes of Mr. Sheldrake. "Who's that?" he asked abruptly. "It must be Lizzie," answered Muzzy; "no one else but her and me lives on this floor." "Come and listen--quick! Come and listen!" In his impatience he almost dragged Muzzy to the door. The persons outside were laughing and talking on the landing. "Yes, it is Lizzie," said the old man. "And the other?" questioned Mr. Sheldrake, with strange eagerness. "The other, who is he?" An expression of displeasure, almost of envy, passed across Muzzy's face. "It's a young man who comes to see her sometimes." "Her lover?" Muzzy did not reply, and Mr. Sheldrake demanded again impatiently, "Her lover?" "I suppose so," answered Muzzy reluctantly; "it looks like it." "Do you know him--what is he like?" "I haven't seen him, but I know his voice; I hear it often enough." Mr. Sheldrake laughed--a triumphant, self-satisfied laugh, as if he had made a gratifying discovery. By this time the persons outside had entered Lizzie's room; the listeners heard the door close.