"Never mind my overcoat, Mrs. Radcliffe."
"But you had it on when you went out, sir?"
"Did I? Don't trouble about it. It will dry quickly enough where it is."
He was now busily employed making a parcel of books and instruments, which he had taken from different parts of the room, and which were the only articles of value belonging to himself it contained. The landlady stood for a moment or two watching his movements, and then she hurried down to her kitchen, and presently returned with a cup of hot tea. As she passed through the passage, with the cup in one hand and a candle in the other, she glanced at the empty umbrella stand.
"His umbrella, too, as well as his overcoat," she muttered. "The man's heart's too big for his body!"
She re-entered the room.
"I've brought you a cup of tea, sir, if you don't mind taking it."
"Not at all, Mrs. Radcliffe. It is very kind of you."
He drank the tea, which warmed him through and through.
"We're all sorry at your leaving us, sir," said the landlady. "There's plenty that'll miss you."