"You have come about a room, madam?"
Anna nodded.
"Yes, for a few weeks—just a bed-sitting room. I want to be quiet. By the way, have you many other lodgers?"
"Two, madam; a lady on this floor"—pointing to the folding doors—"and a gentleman on the floor above. It is the room behind his that you can have, or one above it in the front."
"I think the back would suit me. The traffic at night cannot keep me awake there. Is the gentleman of quiet habits?"
"Quite. Mr. Gabriel is a foreigner, but he is most regular in all his habits. He is at home all day, reading, and he goes out in the evening. He comes in late, but we never hear him."
Anna followed the faded landlady up the creaking stairs, and gazed round as the woman held the candle up for her survey of the room. She did not take much notice of the furniture. The room seemed airy and clean, and she agreed to the price named without demur, forestalling the request for references which she saw trembling on the lady's lips by paying rent for a month in advance.
As she removed her bonnet and cloak she asked that a cup of tea might be served to her in her room. This in due course was brought up by Liz, whose appearance had undergone a slight change for the better. The new lodger made friends at once with the little maid of all work, seeing in her a possible ally of the future, and, without directly asking questions, she managed to get Liz to talk, and from her she soon learnt some of the ways of her fellow-lodger.
She discovered that Mr. Gabriel left the house about eight to half-past each evening. "An awful swell, mum; puts on a clean shirt every blessed night, an 'as one of them smash 'ats." When he came in the girl could not tell; they all went to bed and left his supper ready for him—"not much, only a basin of cold beef-tea, consommy 'e calls it."
"In his room, I suppose?"