"I thought of that myself, and as my duty to the square I have inquired--that I have.

On two occasions I've asked the day policeman, and he says no one passed." "Then," said Lucian, rather puzzled, "Mr.Berwin cannot live alone in the house." "Begging your pardon, I'm sure," cried the pertinacious woman, "but he does.

Mrs.Kebby has been all over the house, and there isn't another soul in it.

No, Mr.Denzil, take it what way you will, there's something that ain't right about Mr.Berwin--if that's his real name, which I don't believe it is." "Why, Miss Greeb ?" "Just because I don't," replied the landlady, with feminine logic.

"And if you think of having anything to do with this mystery, Mr.Denzil, I beg of you not to, else you may come to something as is too terrible to consider--that you may." "Such as--" "Oh, I don't know," cried Miss Greeb, tossing her head and gliding towards the door.