"Do they live together?"
"Yes."
"Do you know where?"
"Yes."
"Capital!" he said, with the air of a man who had been asking important instead of trivial questions. "There is a knock at the door--a frightened, feminine knock. Enter, my dear Mrs. Lemon, enter."
Fanny Lemon came in, smothered with a mattress, sheets, blankets, and pillows, and, without uttering a word, proceeded to make the bed on the floor.
"You have brought plenty of pillows, Fanny," I remarked.
"I thought you'd like to lay high, sir," she whispered.
Devlin broke out into a loud laugh. "Most people do," he said, "while they live. When they die they all lie low—all of them, all of them!"
For a moment I thought that Fanny was going to run away, but a look from me restrained her, and she finished making the bed.