against him in the face of morning. But he did not forget to sit down
at the bottom of the stairs and take his boots off, lest he should
wake Flossie Walker, the little clerk, who worked so hard, and had to
be up so early. He left them on the stairs, where Flossie tripped over
them in the morning.

On the first landing a young man in a frowsy sleeping suit stood
waiting for him. A fresh, sober, and thoroughly wide-awake young man.

"Gurra bed, Spinks," said Mr. Rickman severely to the young man.

"All right, old man." Mr. Spinks lowered his voice to a discreet
whisper. "I say--do you want me to help you find your legs?"

"Wish you'd fin' any par' of me that is n' legs," said Mr. Rickman.
And he went on to explain and to demonstrate to Mr. Spinks the
resemblance (amounting to identity) between himself and the Manx arms.
"Three legs, rampant, on the bend, proper. Amazin', isn't it?"

"It _is_ amazin'."

Feigning surprise and interest, Mr. Spinks relieved him of his candle;
and under that escort Mr. Rickman managed to attain to the second
floor.

Mr. Rickman's room was bared to the glimmer of a lamp in the street
below. He plunged and stumbled through a litter of books. The glimmer
fell on the books, on many books; books that covered three walls from
floor to ceiling; books ranged above and beside the little camp-bed in
the corner; books piled on the table and under it. The glimmer fell,