The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 262: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

208 which you have to let, are—were— his?” “ You've hit the mark again! ”’ “Oh! The fact that they are a dead man’s rooms probably accounts for there not being a crowd waiting on the doorstep anxious to rent and take pos- session of them.” “ Right plumb in the center! And I suppose that you, im your turn—now that you know—won’t want to see the rooms?” “Why? Do I look that kind? Re- ceive my assurance that there isn’t su- perstition about me as large as an ap- ple pip. I don’t count on Mr. Stevens’ chost promenading—or is it gliding ?— about the rooms. ‘Tf it does—although the Pyschic Society knows me not—lI'll extend a large-sized welcoming hand. It needs something more than a tomb-dweller to raise alarm in me.” | The steward actually smiled again. I stretched out a hand and said: “Will you give me the open ses- ame?” “T’ll send the porter with the keys —he will show you ” “There is no occasion for you to trouble yourself to do that. DV’ bring them back when I’ve looked over the rooms.” The keys in my possession, I walked out of the office and through to Ray- mond Buildings. The rooms were a suite on the top floor of Number One. Any one know- ing the Inn needs not to be told that there is no outer door at the entrance- way of the houses in it. | Ascent of three flights of stone steps and I found myself on the top floor. Mr. Stevens’ name still existed in white letters on the black outer door. Having inserted the key in the lock, I set the hinges moving. Like treat- ment of the inner door, and the way of entrance was open. The steward had spoken to me of some articles of furniture which had been left on the premises. They con- sisted mainly of fittings, shelving, and a large roll-top oak desk of old-fash- ioned make. There were chairs to match this lat- ter of an equally ancient type; each THE ARGOSY. standing simply on four legs without cross or binding rails. The quaintness of the furniture ap- pealed tome. J own yp to a fad for old oak and love of a Wardour Street walk. Determination, unless a_ prohibitive price was put on the things, was strong upon me to make them my own. Just as I hankered after the furni- ture, so I felt about the rooms. The three at the back looked out on the gardens of Gray’s Inn, and there were two larger rooms in front. A glass skylight, fastened down by a padlock, formed part of the roof of one of the back rooms. On that I fixed as my bedroom. Early morning reading in bed is a habit of mine: the top light would fit in with my weakness. Coming out, closing the doors after me, I retraced my steps and returned to the steward’s office with the keys. He greeted me with a reception smile and tone of voice in which derision was badly hidden. “TI suppose,” he said, as if he quite expected an excuse, “now that you’ve seen the rooms, you don’t like them? ” ‘** You can dismiss that smile,” I said, laughing in return, “and. look up the form of agreement. I imagine they’ll suit me down to the earth, and I pro- pose to take them right away. These gentlemen—being friends—will prob- ably warn you against letting me have the tenement: they know me.” While speaking I was penciling two names and addresses—references— across one of my cards. The writing finished, I handed the pasteboard over, saying as I did so: “If youll let me know—when you get it—that the bad character they’ll give me hasn’t frightened you, I’ll take the rooms under an agreement for twelve months.” He seemed a trifle surprised at™ mv ready acceptance of the chambers. Probably thought the name they bore fresh enough to smell. After a moment’s silence he asked: “How about the fixtures and fittings —furniture and things—there ? ” “Include them in the schedule,” I answered, “‘for convenience. I don’t jyhanker after them.” GOI OOoO SS (COL