"Come here, for God's sake! The man's not asleep--he is dead." "You have found that out sooner than I thought you would," said the landlord, composedly.

"Yes, he's dead, sure enough.

He died at five o'clock to-day." "How did he die?
Who is he ?" asked Arthur, staggered for the moment by the audacious coolness of the answer.
"As to who is he," rejoined the landlord, "I know no more about him than you do.

There are his books, and letters, and things all sealed up in that brown paper parcel for the coroner's inquest to open to-morrow or next day.

He's been here a week, paying his way fairly enough, and stopping indoors, for the most part, as if he was ailing.