is Sleuth," he said suddenly,--"S-l-e-u-t-h. Think of a hound,
Mrs. Bunting, and you'll never forget my name. I could provide you
with a reference--" (he gave her what she described to herself as
a funny, sideways look), "but I should prefer you to dispense with
that, if you don't mind. I am quite willing to pay you--well, shall
we say a month in advance?"

A spot of red shot into Mrs. Bunting's cheeks. She felt sick with
relief--nay, with a joy which was almost pain. She had not known
till that moment how hungry she was--how eager for--a good meal.
"That would be all right, sir," she murmured.

"And what are you going to charge me?" There had come a kindly,
almost a friendly note into his voice. "With attendance, mind! I
shall expect you to give me attendance, and I need hardly ask if
you can cook, Mrs. Bunting?"

"Oh, yes, sir," she said. "I am a plain cook. What would you say
to twenty-five shillings a week, sir?" She looked at him
deprecatingly, and as he did not answer she went on falteringly,
"You see, sir, it may seem a good deal, but you would have the best
of attendance and careful cooking--and my husband, sir--he would
be pleased to valet you."

"I shouldn't want anything of that sort done for me," said Mr.
Sleuth hastily. "I prefer looking after my own clothes. I am used
to waiting on myself. But, Mrs. Bunting, I have a great dislike to
sharing lodgings--"

She interrupted eagerly, "I could let you have the use of the two