"Have you not been in bed, sir?" he asked, closing the door softly after him, and coming forward to the centre of the room. "No," replied Adrian, in a dull voice, feeling it incumbent upon him to keep up the character he had assumed, "I have been engaged in writing and just slept here for a few hours." Dentham cast a swift glance at the writing materials lying on a desk standing near the window, let his cold glance dwell doubtfully for a moment on his master's face and then spoke again. "What would you be pleased to have for breakfast, sir?" "The same as usual," replied Adrian, who had not the slightest idea but that Roversmire might have been a vegetarian, and therefore felt afraid to say anything. "Meanwhile I'll go up to my room and have a bath." "You will find everything ready, sir," answered Dentham, respectfully holding the door open. Adrian did not know where the bedroom was, but did not like to ask Dentham, knowing it would look curious in his eyes, so left the room, trusting to chance to find it. Luckily he had not proceeded very far when he saw through an open door a sponge-bath filled with water, and guessing this to be Roversmire's bedroom, went-inside, closing the door after him. Left alone in the sitting-room, Dentham's manner underwent a rapid change and from wearing an air of cold self-restraint he became as eager and as anxious as a ferret. He glanced rapidly round the room, went across to the writing-desk, turned over the papers quickly with his lean hands, marked the two arm-chairs set opposite one another near the table, noticed that two glasses had been filled with wine, then suddenly caught sight of Adrian's stick, which he had thrown down the previous evening. "I knew I was right," murmured Dentham to himself, pouncing eagerly on the stick. "It was the voice of a stranger. Someone's been to see him. I wonder what's up; this ain't his stick." He looked carefully at the stick, a massive oaken staff, round the top of which was a gold band, marked with the letters "A. L.," which discovery seemed to afford him much satisfaction. "I wonder who it was came," he repeated, twisting the stick round and round. "The letters of his name are 'A. L.,' and he's gone off again, leaving his stick behind him. That's queer! Rum old cove, my master. I can't make him out." The fact was, Dr. Roversmire's peculiar mode of life had roused the curiosity of Mr. Dentham, who was of a very suspicious nature, and he was anxious to find out the reason of his master's solitary life, and if possible turn it to his own advantage. Up till the present, although he had watched the movements of the doctor closely, nothing had occurred to justify his suspicions that anything was wrong, but on the previous night he had heard two voices in conversation, and now that he saw two separate glasses of wine had been drunk, and had found the tangible evidence of the walking-stick, he became assured that his master had received a visitor during the night.