"Your explanation could be that he did the boots."
"It wouldn't take him all night to do the boots. Of course, I'm too grateful to him to want him to do anything."
Mr. Jaggs reported again for duty that night. He came at half-past nine, a shabby-looking old man, and Lydia, who had not yet got used to her new magnificence, came out into the hall to meet him.
He was certainly not a prepossessing object, and Lydia discovered that, in addition to his other misfortunes, he had a slight squint.
"I hadn't an opportunity of thanking you the other day, Mr. Jaggs," she said. "I think you saved my life."
"That's all right, miss," he said, in his hoarse voice. "Dooty is dooty!"
She thought he was looking past her, till she realised that his curious slanting line of vision was part of his infirmity.
"I'll show you to your room," she said hastily.
She led the way down the corridor, opened the door of a small room which had been prepared for him, and switched on the light.
"Too much light for me, miss," said the old man, shaking his head. "I like to sit in the dark and listen, that's what I like, to sit in the dark and listen."