Into the room strayed a ray of summer sunlight across the threadbare green carpet, lighting up the dingy old place. The stranger from upstairs saw it, and squeaked: "Look! It’s summer—summer!" "Summer!" cried the man who held him enthralled. "You’re dreaming! It’s winter. We get sun in winter sometimes. Surely you know that—dense as you are." "I’m not dense," came the protest. "I do all you ask—fine jobs, too." "You’re dense about sunshine," Boyne repeated. "Ah! yes. But not about the rats. Where’s Nibby?" Boyne caught the little animal and gave it into the hands of the strange figure, who stroked its sleek coat. Suddenly the weird form in the soiled white disguise sprang to its feet without warning, and, facing its jailer, shrieked: "Ah! But who are you? Who are you? I’m beginning to realise the truth at last—_yes—at last_!" *CHAPTER XIII* *RELATES A STRANGE CONVERSATION* "Who _are_ you?" shrieked the weird, hooded figure in the white cloak in a fierce voice, standing up suddenly above the seated man who was in exactly similar disguise. The pair, one seated, and the other having suddenly sprung up, faced each other. The smaller, and apparently weaker figure had assumed a distinctly offensive attitude. His eyes shone behind the narrow slits. "Fool!" laughed Boyne, who was seated. "Sit down, you idiotic fool!" And he waved his hand in contempt. "If I had not looked after you, and hidden you here, you would long ago have been given over to the hangman. Just remember that!" he shouted loudly. "Sink that into your skull, sleepy brain!" "But—but," faltered the figure. "But who are you? You are not Wisden!" Boyne, disguised in his white cloak with hood—the two presenting the most weird spectacle in the light of day in that dingy room in Hammersmith—started, then hesitated for a second. "Yes," he replied, in a hard voice. "I am Wisden! Now you know! Wisden, of Twywell! Do you recollect the name?" "You—Wisden!" gasped the person whose countenance was disguised by that hideous hood. "I—I——!" And he sank back into his chair. "Now you know, you accursed fool!" exclaimed the mystery man. "And let that also sink into your silly noddle. Further, keep a still tongue. Be silent when you are up there, for people may listen and hear you. If they do, then you’ll be discovered, and your death will be quick. Recollect that they are waiting for you—the affair isn’t forgotten." "No," sighed the weird figure. "No—I know it hasn’t been forgotten. My crime!—_my crime_!"