“Did this change in his habits come about suddenly?” “Yes, sir, it did; without an hour’s warning. I comes to his rooms one morning and finds that his bed hasn’t been slept in, and I finds a little bit of a pencil note from him to say that he would be stopping out of town for a few days. He was away over a fortnight, and from that time to the end of my service in Ferret Court, he never spent another night there.” “He had taken lodgings out of town, I conclude? I suppose you knew his other address?” “No, sir, he never told me where his home was, for of course he must have had a home somewhere. No man would be a waif and stray for all those years—above all, such a steady-going gentleman as Mr. Dalbrook. I’ve heard other gentlemen accuse him of being a hermit. ‘One never sees you nowhere,’ they says. ‘You’re as steady as Old Time,’ they says. And so he was; but he was very secret with his steadiness.” “Had you any idea where that second home of his was—in what part of the suburbs? It could not have been very far from London, since you say he came to his chambers before ten o’clock every morning.” “It was oftener nine than ten, sir,” said Mrs. Dugget. She paused a little before replying to his question, watching him with a sly smile as he caressed the obtrusive cat. She had her own notions as to the motive of his curiosity. He had expectations from Lord Cheriton, perhaps, and he wanted to discover if there were anything in the background of his kinsman’s history which was likely to interfere with the fruition of his mercenary hopes. “It was a good many years after Mr. Dalbrook left off sleeping at his chambers that I made a sort of discovery,” she said; “and I knew my place too well to take any advantage of that discovery. But still I had my suspicions, and I believe they were not far off the truth.” “What was the nature of your discovery?” “Oh, well, you see, sir, it wasn’t much to talk about, only it set me thinking. It was two or three years before Mr. Dalbrook left Ferret Court and went to that first floor set in King’s Bench Walk, but he was beginning to be a great man, and he had more work than he could do, slave as hard as he might; and he did slave, I can tell you, sir. His rooms in Ferret Court were very shabby—they hadn’t had a bit of paint or a pail of whitewash for I don’t know how long; so, just before the Long Vacation, he says to me, ‘I’m going to get these rooms done up, Mrs. Dugget, while I’m out of town. I’ve got a estimate from a party in Holborn, and he’s to paint the wainscot and clear coal the ceiling, and do the whole thing for nine pounds seven and eightpence, in a workmanlike manner. You’ll please to clean up after him, and do away with all the waste paper and rubbish, and get everything tidy before November.” Mrs. Dugget paused, and refreshed herself with half a cup of tea, and apologized for the obtrusiveness of the cat. “I hope you don’t object to cats, sir.”