At six-thirty, to the second, Walters, his valet, would assist him into his overcoat, a light one if it was warm, a heavy, fur-lined garment if it was cold, and Mr. Trasmere would go for his walk and transact whatever business he found to his hand. But before he left the house there was a certain ceremonial, the locking of doors, the banishment of the valet to his own quarters, and the disappearance of Mr. Trasmere through the door which led from his study-dining-room to the basement of the house. This done he would go out. Walters had watched him from one of the upper windows scores of times, walking slowly down the street, an unfurled umbrella in one hand, a black bag in another. At eight-thirty to the minute he was back in the house. He invariably dined out. Walters would bring him a cup of black coffee and at ten o’clock would retire to his own room, which was separated from the main building by a heavy door which Mr. Trasmere invariably locked. Once in the early days of his service, Walters had expostulated. “Suppose there is a fire, sir,” he complained. “You can get through your bath-room window on to the kitchen and if you can’t drop to the ground from there, you deserve to be burnt to death,” snarled the old man. “If you don’t like the job you needn’t stay. Those are the rules of my establishment and there are no others.” So, night after night, Walters had gone to his room and Mr. Trasmere had shuffled after him in his slippered feet, had banged and locked the door upon him and had left Walters to solitude. This procedure was only altered when the old man was taken ill one night and was unable to reach the door. Thereafter a key was hung in a small, glass-fronted case, in very much the same way as fire-keys are hung. In the event of his illness, or of any other unexpected happening, Walters could secure the key and answer the bell above his bed-head. That necessity had not arisen. Every morning the valet found the door unlocked. At what hour old Jesse came he could not discover, but he guessed that his employer stopped on his way to bed in the morning to perform this service. Walters was never allowed an evening off. Two days a week he was given twenty-four hours’ leave of absence, but he had to be in the house by ten. “And if you are a minute later, don’t come back,” said Jesse Trasmere.