"Is he a gentleman? I mean, is he a quiet, well-behaved person?"

"The quietest man I ever came across," said the landlord, rubbing
his fat hands stealthily one over the other. "As sober as a
judge, and as regular as clock-work in his habits. It hasn't
struck nine, not ten minutes ago, and he's in his bed already. I
don't know whether that comes up to your notion of a quiet man:
it goes a long way ahead of mine, I can tell you."

"Is he asleep, do you think?" asked Arthur.

"I know he's asleep," returned the landlord; "and, what's more,
he's gone off so fast that I'll warrant you don't wake him. This
way, sir," said the landlord, speaking over young Holliday's
shoulder, as if he was addressing some new guest who was
approaching the house.

"Here you are," said Arthur, determined to be beforehand with the
stranger, whoever he might be. "I'll take the bed." And he handed
the five shillings to the landlord, who nodded, dropped the money
carelessly into his waistcoat pocket, and lighted a candle.

"Come up and see the room," said the host of The Two Robins,
leading the way to the staircase quite briskly, considering how
fat he was.

They mounted to the second floor of the house. The landlord half
opened a door fronting the landing, then stopped, and turned
round to Arthur.