CHAPTER IV.
Mrs.Bunting woke up the next morning feeling happier than she had felt for a very, very long time.
For just one moment she could not think why she felt so different -- and then she suddenly remembered.
How comfortable it was to know that upstairs, just over her head, lay, in the well-found bed she had bought with such satisfaction at an auction held in a Baker Street house, a lodger who was paying two guineas a week! Something seemed to tell her that Mr.Sleuth would be "a permanency." In any case, it wouldn't be her fault if he wasn't.

As to his--his queerness, well, there's always something funny in everybody.

But after she had got up, and as the morning wore itself away, Mrs.Bunting grew a little anxious, for there came no sound at all from the new lodger's rooms.

At twelve, however, the drawing-room bell rang.

Mrs.Bunting hurried upstairs.
She was painfully anxious to please and satisfy Mr.Sleuth.