they don't amount to much." He started out, and stopped on the
door-step to light a cigar.

"Take him on if he comes," he said. "And keep your eyes open. Feed him
well, and he won't kill you!"

I had plenty to think of when I was cooking Mr. Reynolds' supper: the
chance that I might have Mr. Ladley again, and the woman at Horner.
For it had come to me like a flash, as Mr. Graves left, that the
"Horn--" on the paper slip might have been "Horner."




CHAPTER VII

After all, there was nothing sensational about Mr. Ladley's return. He
came at eight o'clock that night, fresh-shaved and with his hair cut,
and, although he had a latch-key, he rang the door-bell. I knew his
ring, and I thought it no harm to carry an old razor of Mr. Pitman's
with the blade open and folded back on the handle, the way the colored
people use them, in my left hand.

But I saw at once that he meant no mischief.

"Good evening," he said, and put out his hand. I jumped back, until I
saw there was nothing in it and that he only meant to shake hands. I
didn't do it; I might have to take him in, and make his bed, and cook
his meals, but I did not have to shake hands with him.