"Look!" cried the lonely man who lived upstairs, and whose movements were never heard by deaf old Mrs. Felmore. "What’s that?" And with a shriek of horror he pointed to a corner of the dingy room. "What? I don’t see anything!" was Boyne’s reply. "You’ve got one of those spooky fits of yours coming on again. You’d better go back." "I don’t want to go back," whined the person whose Christian name was Lionel. "Surely you won’t send me back, Wisden?" "Yes; for your own sake you must lie low. Try to understand what I say. We are mutually interested in each other. It is to the advantage of both that you should remain here. I am not your jailer, recollect. If you wish, you can walk out now. But I warn you that you will walk straight into the hangman’s noose. Scotland Yard and the Old Bailey are awaiting you, and are ready, never fear." "But where’s Alice?" asked the squeaky voice. "Alice is dead." "Are you sure? How and where did she die?" "In Avignon. In a house close behind the Pope’s Palace. Surely you remember? You were there." "I wasn’t there. I swear I was not. When we were in Avignon we were all happy together. Alice with me, and you with Lilla." "My dear boy, your memory is at fault. Did you not stay in Avignon while Lilla and I motored to Paris? Now think! Did you not take an apartment in the Rue Cardinale, and remain after our departure? Alice, your wife, died there! Why, only a few minutes ago you deplored her loss!" "Yes. But how can I be certain that she is dead?" asked the other dubiously. "Because I tell you she is. I’m not a liar!" cried Boyne fiercely, again assuming an overbearing attitude. "But I want to go home—to see my home again—the garden—the flowers—and Alice." "You’ll never see her again. And you are safer here. So you had better go back to your room and keep a still tongue. And be careful not to make a noise. You made a horrible row the other night." "I didn’t!" "Yes, you did. I could hear you moving about above me. You should move your bed across to the other side, near the trap-door that goes out on to the roof of which you are so fond." "Ah! because I get air. But I only open it and go out after it’s dark, I assure you." "Well, you’ve got plenty of stores. I bring you bread and fresh meat and vegetables, and you’ve got the cistern full of water. Why, if I went away for for a month or six weeks you wouldn’t starve. I always see to that. And look what it costs me!" exclaimed the humble insurance agent. "Ah! Nibby. Dear little Nibby!" cried the weird man from upstairs in that inhuman, high-pitched voice, as he noticed the tame rat dart across the threadbare carpet. "Yes, Nibby knows you!" laughed the man Boyne. "He’s a dear little fellow, isn’t he?" "Yes. I miss him after so long," replied the man. "Can’t I take him upstairs with me?" he asked piteously.