up of one large room, and that at the present time, at least, it
possessed no other occupant than the singular creature who had guided
him to it.

"It is just as well, on this particular night, that no light is seen at
the window," continued the old man as he rummaged about a table for a
match and a candle. "I have a little corner back here that a candle will
brighten up nicely and no one in the world will know it. Ho, ho,
ho!--how nice it is to have a quiet little corner sometimes! Eh, Captain
Plum?"

At the sound of his name Captain Plum started as though an unexpected
hand had suddenly been laid upon him. So he _was_ expected, after all,
and his name was known! For a moment his surprise robbed him of the
power of speech. The little old man had lighted his candle, and,
grinning back over his shoulder, passed through a narrow cut in the
wall that could hardly be called a door and planted his light on a table
that stood in the center of a small room, or closet, not more than five
feet square. Then he coolly pulled Captain Plum's old letter from his
pocket and smoothed it out in the dim light.

"Be seated, Captain Plum; right over there--opposite me. So!"

He continued for a moment to smooth out the creases in the letter and
then proceeded to read it with as much assurance as though its owner
were a thousand miles away instead of within arm's reach of him. Captain
Plum was dumfounded. He felt the hot blood rushing to his face and his
first impulse was to recover the crumpled paper and demand something
more than an explanation. In the next instant it occurred to him that
this action would probably spoil whatever possibilities his night's