‘Do you know,’ returned Miss Brass, ‘that the lodger isn’t up yet— that nothing has been seen or heard of him since he went to bed yesterday afternoon?’
‘Well, ma’am,’ said Dick, ‘I suppose he may sleep his ten pound out, in peace and quietness, if he likes.’
‘Ah! I begin to think he’ll never wake,’ observed Miss Sally.
‘It’s a very remarkable circumstance,’ said Brass, laying down his pen; ‘really, very remarkable. Mr Richard, you’ll remember, if this gentleman should be found to have hung himself to the bed-post, or any unpleasant accident of that kind should happen—you’ll remember, Mr Richard, that this ten pound note was given to you in part payment of two years’ rent? You’ll bear that in mind, Mr Richard; you had better make a note of it, sir, in case you should ever be called upon to give evidence.’
Mr Swiveller took a large sheet of foolscap, and with a countenance of profound gravity, began to make a very small note in one corner.
‘We can never be too cautious,’ said Mr Brass. ‘There is a deal of wickedness going about the world, a deal of wickedness. Did the gentleman happen to say, Sir—but never mind that at present, sir; finish that little memorandum first.’
Dick did so, and handed it to Mr Brass, who had dismounted from his stool, and was walking up and down the office.
‘Oh, this is the memorandum, is it?’ said Brass, running his eye over the document. ‘Very good. Now, Mr Richard, did the gentleman say anything else?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure, Mr Richard,’ said Brass, solemnly, ‘that the gentleman said nothing else?’