‘True, you are as much interested as I am,’ muttered the old man; ‘nay, more so, for life is before you, and is nearly over with me. _My_ interest in these things is a vanishing one; yet I doubt if there would be rest for me in the grave if those fruits of my life’s labour were in jeopardy.’ ‘Will you trust me to take care of this house and all it contains?’ asked Lucius anxiously. ‘Will you give me authority to dismiss these Winchers, whom I cannot but suspect of complicity with the thief, whoever he may be?’ ‘Yes, dismiss them. They have robbed me, no doubt. I was a fool to trust old Wincher with the key of that chest; but he has served me so long, and I thought there was a dog-like fidelity in his nature, that he would be content to grub on to the end of his days, asking nothing more than food and shelter. I thought it was against his interests to rob me. At his age a man should cling to his home as a mussel sticks to his rock. The fellow is as sober as an anchorite. One would suppose he could have no motive for dishonesty. But you had better dismiss him.’ ‘I have your permission to do so?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Thank you, sir. It seems a hard thing, but I am convinced it is the right course. I will get your house taken good care of, depend upon it.’ ‘I trust you implicitly,’ answered the old man, with a faint sigh, half fatigue, half despondency. ‘You are the only friend I have upon earth—except Lucille. Why has she not been to me this morning?’ ‘She is not very well. Anxiety and want of rest have prostrated her for a little while.’ ‘Ill!’ said Mr. Sivewright anxiously; ‘that is bad. Poor little Lucille!’ ‘Pray don’t be uneasy about her; be assured I shall be watchful.’ ‘Yes, I am sure of that.’ ‘I have brought in a nurse—now, you mustn’t be angry with me, though in this matter I have disobeyed you—a thoroughly honest, competent woman, who will attend to you and Lucille too.’ ‘I detest strangers,’ said Mr. Sivewright; ‘but I suppose I must submit to the inevitable.’ ‘Now, I want your permission to remain in the house for a night or two. I would stay altogether, were it not for the possibility of night patients. I can occupy the little room next this, and shall be at hand to attend you. Lucille has returned to her own room.’ ‘Do as you please,’ answered Mr. Sivewright with wonderful resignation, ‘so long as you protect me from robbery.’ ‘With God’s help I will protect you from every peril. By the way, since you say my medicine has done you no good, you shall take no more. Your food shall be prepared according to my directions, and brought you by Mrs. Milderson, the nurse. I told you some time ago that yours was a case in which I attached more importance to diet than to drugs. And now I’ll go and settle matters with Mr. and Mrs. Wincher.’ He had not far to go. Mrs. Wincher was still in the corridor, waiting for him with stony visage and folded arms. ‘I should be glad to see your husband, Mrs. Wincher,’ said Lucius.