With these highly unnecessary remarks to a wearied listener, the brisk landlady, who was thin and small, tight-laced, and highly-coloured, disappeared as suddenly as she had presented herself, and was heard a moment later exchanging interminable greetings with the last person who had entered to toast the Season. The man in grey shrugged his lean shoulders and breathed a sigh of relief, when Mrs. Talkative departed. Shortly he nodded contentedly over the Bradshaw. The next London train did not leave Crumel until seven o'clock, so if Dr. Jerce intended to go to town on this night, he would have to be at the station at that hour. Of course, there was a chance that the doctor might remain, but the grey man did not think that this was likely, as he had observed the absence of a bag. Still, it was as well to provide against emergencies, and, when the landlady returned, the stranger asked a question in a deep, grave voice, which suggested, in some uncanny way, cemeteries and funerals. "I may have to remain here to-night," said he, surveying the brightly-dressed, would-be fashionable lady, "can I have a bed, please?" With all her frivolous exterior, the little woman had a head for business, and first glanced round the room to see if the visitor had brought a bag. He guessed the meaning of her hesitation. "I shall pay for a bed and for two meals in advance," he remarked, solemnly, "that is, if I find it necessary to remain, Miss--Miss--" "There, now," giggled the hotel fairy, pleasantly confused, "if I ain't always saying to Lydia--who is the housemaid--that strangers will call me Miss, though I should look married, having heard the wedding service three times, and the funeral words as often. My last name was Dumps, if you please, sir,--John Dumps, and a dear man he was, though not extraordinarily handsome. He left me this hotel--the Savoy Hotel," added the landlady, with emphasis, "and you can call me Mrs. Dumps." The grave man listened impassively, with his keen eyes on the airy female, so gorgeously arrayed. He might have been of bronze for all the impression this speech seemed to make. Yet it conveyed to him the idea that Mrs. Dumps was a confirmed gossip, and sufficiently free with her tongue to tell him everything he wished to know concerning Crumel and its inhabitants. Making a mental note of this, the grey man reverted to his first statement. "I shall pay in advance, Mrs. Dumps," he remarked, "and the price." "Seven shillings for supper and bed and breakfast. I can't say fairer than that, look as you like, Mr.--Mr.--lor, now, I don't know your--" "Osip is my name," interrupted the man, and tendered two halfcrowns and a single florin. Mrs. Dumps' claw-like fingers closed on the money in a way which suggested the miser. "Osip. Really! Osip! A strange name, Osip." "I am a strange man," replied the other curtly, "would you mind getting me a glass of ginger beer, Mrs. Dumps?"