"Jes lookin' fer the Doc a minute, sir, that's all. You ain't him, are yer?" "Why not?..." And then it came over Vivian who this man must be: surely no other than the Dabney House prodigal, spouse of his own fellow-lodger, landlady, and _blanchisseuse_. Upon that thought he stepped out into the hall, closing the office door behind him upon Sam O'Neill. "Yes, I'm the doctor--and you're Mr. Garland, aren't you? Your wife and daughter are friends of mine...." Mr. Garland accepted the introduction with signs of abashment, but stated his business simply. "Doc, could you he'p me out with a coat like?" "Oh ... A coat, you say?" "Rags to my skin, sir. I 'clare you can see my meat...." The bearded one inspected himself downward with feeble cackles, hollow parodies of gay derision. And he added, with the same mock dash, that he didn't mind his situation for himself, being used to taking them as they come; 'twas his missus seemed sort of shamed _fer_ him ... The pleasant-faced young man stood stroking his chin. "Yes--yes--I can fit you out, I dare say," said he. "I--ah--have a coat in here that I think'll do you. Very nicely.... S'pose you wait here a moment, and we'll see--what we shall see ..." He disappeared through a door down the hall, and returned presently, carrying a black coat of the sort commonly known as a cutaway. "There's the vest that goes with it, too," said he. "You might as well have that--though of course Mrs. Garland may have to let it out a little ..." The man received the gifts in a somewhat awkward silence. Having eyed the proffered coat,--which in this dim light appeared to be quite a good one, newer-looking, indeed, than the one worn at present by the doctor,--his gaze wandered up and then stealthily away. His air of hesitancy was a little surprising. "In the seams, you know," said V.V. "Make it bigger. She'll understand ..." Then thanks came from the furry voice, effusive yet somehow rather sheepish: perhaps the man wasn't as experienced at this sort of thing as he looked. However, he shambled away with speed, appearing at least to know that when you had got what you wanted, that, and no other, was the moment to go. Far down the corridor of the old hotel, he turned once, looking back furtively over his shoulder.... Vivian reappeared in his office, to be greeted with a grin by Sam O'Neill, who, having just thrown his cigar-end into the ruined fireplace, was ready to go. "'Nother beggar, hey?" "No--no ... Oh, no!" said the doctor, hastily. "Just a--ah--sort of a fellow wanted to see me ..." He halted in the middle of the room; stood absently pushing back his hair; and his gaze, turned toward the window, became introspective, a little dreamy....