"Yes. But don’t refer to it. Just keep a level head, my dear Lionel, as you always do. I will still look after you if you remain silent and do what I order. I will supply you with everything. But be very careful that when I carry you up your food you don’t speak. Somebody might overhear. These cursed walls have ears, although the old woman Felmore is deaf. Do you understand me?" he asked in a more imperative voice, rising, taking him by the shoulders, and shaking him. "Now tell me—you understand—eh?" "Yes, yes!" the other gibbered in a strange tone. "You—Wisden—Willie Wisden! Oh, yes! I—I see! Dear old Willie, who was with me at Monte Carlo. Oh, yes! _And that beautiful microscope_?" "You’ve got it upstairs. Don’t you recollect it? Why, I gave it to you in the Terminus Hotel, in Marseilles, three years ago. Are you growing foolish? Surely not!" "Yes. Oh, yes! I recollect now—the beautiful mike—oh, yes! Oh, what that instrument must have cost—oh, what a lot!—what a lot of money!" "It did cost a good bit. And it’s yours. So don’t worry. I’ll look after you, Lionel. But don’t play the fool, or you’ll go to the gallows over that unfortunate little affair—I warn you! Scotland Yard is looking everywhere for you, and they would have had you long ago if I hadn’t taken you in hand and had pity upon you." For a few moments the strange figure huddled in the chair remained silent. "Yes—I know. And—and Lilla?" he asked. "She’s dead—died a year ago," was Boyne’s prompt reply. "Lilla dead!" sighed the other. "Poor Lilla! She was a very good wife to you—just as Alice was to me! Poor Lilla!" "Don’t you bother about my personal affairs, Lionel. Just keep your own end up, and breathe the bit of fresh air now while you can before you go back to your own quarters. I don’t like you getting up through that trap-door on to the roof. Somebody might see you one night." "My quarters! My prison, you mean!" he retorted bitterly. "Prison? Fool, what are you saying? Your room is surely comfortable, and I do my best for you. If you want to get out—do so. And you’ll be arrested by the first police constable who comes along." "But it is prison!" replied the mysterious figure in a voice asking for pity. "Prison!" "Well—take your liberty, and take the consequences," the other responded roughly. "Look what I do! I’m always working for you—always!" Boyne laughed harshly. "Very well! Give it up, and I’ll fling you out into the gutter—now—just as you are! I shan’t suffer," he added, "but you will! By gad you will!" The man from upstairs cringed and drew his breath. "No! No! Wisden! No!—don’t do that! I’ll do all you ask—all! Alice—my dear Alice—always said you were my best friend—my very best friend." "And so I am, my dear fellow!" exclaimed Boyne. "I’ve done my best for you all along—all along."