father, to know about that portfolio?" she asked.

Her father seemed to have reasons of his own for following my example and
declining to answer questions. More polite, however, than I had been, he
left his resolution to be inferred. His daughter was answered by a few
general remarks, setting forth the advantage to the landlord of having a
lodger who had lost one of senses.

"You see there's something convenient, my dear, in the circumstance of
that nice-looking gentleman over there being deaf. We can talk about him
before his face, just as comfortably as if it was behind his back. Isn't
that so, Mr. Gerard? Don't you see it yourself, Cristy? For instance, I
say it without fear in his presence: 'tis the act of a fool to be
fumbling over writings, when there's nothing in them that's not well
known to himself already--unless indeed they are worth money, which I
don't doubt is no secret to _you,_ Mr. Gerard? Eh? I beg your pardon,
sir, did you speak? No? I beg your pardon again. Yes, yes, Cristy, I'm
noticing him; he's done with his writings. Suppose I offer to put them
away for him? You can see in his face he finds the tale of them correct.
He's coming this way. What's he going to do next?"

He was going to establish a claim on my gratitude, by relieving me of
Giles Toller.

"I have something to say to Mr. Roylake," he announced, with a haughty
look at his landlord. "Mind! I don't forget your screaming at me just
now, and I intend to know what you meant by it. That will do. Get out of
the way."

The old fellow received his dismissal with a low bow, and left the