If Mr.Sleuth stayed on with them, as he showed every intention of doing, it meant respectability, and, above all, security.
Mrs.Bunting thought of Mr.Sleuth's money.

He never received a letter, and yet he must have some kind of income--so much was clear.

She supposed he went and drew his money, in sovereigns, out of a bank as he required it.
Her mind swung round, consciously, deliberately, away from Mr.
Sleuth.
The Avenger?
What a strange name! Again she assured herself that there would come a time when The Avenger, whoever he was, must feel satiated; when he would feel himself to be, so to speak, avenged.
To go back to Mr.Sleuth; it was lucky that the lodger seemed so pleased, not only with the rooms, but with his landlord and landlady -- indeed, there was no real reason why Mr.Sleuth should ever wish to leave such nice lodgings.
****** Mrs.Bunting suddenly stood up.

She made a strong effort, and shook off her awful sense of apprehension and unease.

Feeling for the handle of the door giving into the passage she turned it, and then, with light, firm steps, she went down into the kitchen.
When they had first taken the house, the basement had been made by her care, if not into a pleasant, then, at any rate, into a very clean place.