About half an hour later he was once more in the street where, not so very long ago, a very exciting cab-race had finished. He strolled slowly past Dr Twiddel’s house. The blinds of the front room were down; at that hour there was no sign of life about it, and he saw nothing at all to arrest his attention. Then he looked down the other side of the street, and to his great satisfaction spied a card, with the legend “Apartments to let,” in one of the first-floor windows of a house immediately opposite. He rang the bell, and in a moment a rotund and loquacious landlady appeared. Yes, the drawing-room was to let; would the reverend gentleman come up and see it? Mr Bunker went up, and approved. They readily agreed upon terms, and the landlady, charmed with her new lodger’s appearance and manners, no less than with the respectability of his profession, proceeded to descant at some length on the quiet, comfort, and numerous other advantages of the apartments. “Just the very plice you wants, sir. We ’ave ’ad clerical gentlemen ’ere before, sir; in fact, there’s one a-staying ’ere now, second floor,—you may know of ’im, sir,—the Reverend Mr John Duggs; a very pleasant gentleman you’ll find him, sir. I’ll tell ’im you’re ’ere, sir; ’e’d be sure to like to meet another gentleman of the syme cloth, has they say.” Somehow or other the Rev. Mr Butler failed to display the hearty pleasure at this announcement that the worthy Mrs Gabbon had naturally expected. Aloud he merely said, “Indeed,” politely, but with no unusual interest. Within himself he reflected, “The deuce take Mr John Duggs! However, I want the rooms, and a man must risk something.” As a precautionary measure he visited a second-hand bookseller on his way back, and purchased a small assortment of the severest-looking works on theology they kept in stock; and these, with his slender luggage, he brought round to Mrs Gabbon’s in the course of the afternoon. He looked carefully out of his sitting-room window, but the doctor’s blinds were still down, and he saw no one coming or going about the house; so he began his inquiries by calling up his landlady. “I have been troubled with lumbago, Mrs Gabbon,” he began. “Dearie me, sir,” said Mrs Gabbon, “I’m sorry to ’ear that; you that looks so ’ealthy too! Well, one never knows what’s be’ind a ’appy hexterior, does one, sir?” “No, Mrs Gabbon,” replied Mr Bunker, solemnly; “one never knows what even a clergyman’s coat conceals.” “That’s very true, sir. In the midst of life we are in——” “Lumbago,” interposed Mr Bunker. Mrs Gabbon looked a trifle startled. “Well,” he continued with the same gravity, “I may unfortunately have occasion to consult a doctor——” “There’s Dr Smith,” interrupted Mrs Gabbon, her equanimity quite restored by his ecclesiastical tone and the mention of ailments; “’e attended my poor dear ’usband hall through his last illness; an huncommon clever doctor, sir, as I ought to know, sir, bein’——”