"Two pieces of hand-baggage, sir, and that box yonder by the window. The box was very heavy—almost as if filled with iron—and we had great difficulty in getting it up the stairs, even with the assistance of the truck-man."
"Did you enter this room while he was here?"
"No, sir; I entered neither of the rooms. My rule is never to interfere in the affairs of my tenants—they do not like it. But on one occasion, as I passed the door, I heard him at work on his invention."
"Heard him, you say?"
"Yes, sir; there was a deep humming noise as of a huge top, or perhaps of a motor. It occurred to me that it was a flying-machine which he was inventing. Then, on Sunday, came a telegram."
"A telegram?"
"Yes, sir; I brought it up myself. He read it and his face grew very grave. He informed me that he would be compelled to depart next day—that his sister was dying. But he assured me that he would return as soon as possible to continue his experiments, and that I was to hold the apartment for him—at least until the month for which he had paid had expired."
"And he did depart?"
"Yes, sir; quite early in the morning. I called a cab and assisted to carry down his baggage. The box, as you see, remains against his return, also his apparatus," and he indicated the batteries.
"Oh, certainly," agreed Lépine, with irony, "there can be no doubt of his intention to return." And then his face grew dark and his eyes flashed. "How does it happen," he demanded sternly, "that you did not cause him to fill out a registration blank for the police?"