And presently John found himself, after stumbling up several flights of stairs, in a room high up, very shabbily and sparely furnished, where there was a glimmer of fire, and where he was not unwilling to sit down and rest, though his senses had come back to him, and he began to recover from the shock. While he sat looking round him, vaguely wondering with his still slightly clouded faculties where he was, and if, perhaps, he might have fallen into some of the traps he had read of, the couple talked a little in whispers behind him. Was it of him they were talking? Were they consulting together what to do with him? He smiled to himself even while he half entertained this thought. Then one innocent word came to his ears which made him laugh to himself. It was ‘sausages.’ John, in his most suspicious mood, in the deepest alarms of the country lad, could not suppose that they meant to make sausages of him. The sound of his laugh startled both himself and the little group behind him. The woman hurried away, and the man came forward with the grand air which sat so strangely on his evident poverty. ‘Ye laugh, me young friend,’ he said. ‘Perhaps ye overheard our consultations how to receive ye, our young benefactor. It is not much at present that is in Montressor’s power, but what we have is at your service to the last sou. I am not an ungrateful, though ye see in me a fallen man. Did ye see the crowds at that theatre door? Young sir, a few years ago it was to see Montressor those crowds--and there were more, more! than are ever drawn now--that those crowds flowed in to boxes, pit, and gallery, and not a scrap of paper, but all solid money throughout the house.’ John but dimly understood, but yet had a glimmering of what was meant. ‘Are you Montressor?’ he said. Montressor lifted his hands, in one of which was still the shiny hat, to heaven--or rather to the low, smoke-darkened ceiling which was its substitute. ‘Me downfall is indeed proved,’ he said, ‘me young friend, when ye have to ask that question. Me portrait was once in all the shop windows: but now----’ The arms were raised again, and then Montressor put down his hat and drew a chair towards the waning fire, which he poked gently and with precaution. ‘If she’s to cook ’em when she comes in, we must mind the fire,’ he said, falling into a more familiar tone, and raking together the embers with a careful and experienced hand. ‘Ye find me, young gentleman, in a small apartment that is kitchen and chamber and hall, as the song says. What does it matter to a lofty mind, s’longs ye find honour and a warm heart of gratitude there?’ ‘But, indeed, I think I must go,’ said John, with the timidity of his age. ‘I feel all right now. It was only just for a moment. I feel quite steady, and I think I must go.’