“By whom?” asked the startled Tab.
“By the murderer of Trasmere,” said the detective quietly. “It is a humiliating confession for a man of my experience and proved courage to make, but I am afraid to go home tonight, for I have a large premonition that our unknown friend is preparing something particularly startling in the way of trouble for me.”
“Then you really want to stay the night here?” said Tab as the fact dawned upon him.
Carver nodded.
“Your instinct is marvellously developed,” said he. “That is just what I want to do, if it is not inconvenient. The fact is, I had not the moral courage to ask you before. It isn’t very pleasant to admit——”
“Oh shush!” said Tab scornfully. “You are no more scared of the murderer than I am.”
“I am more accessible to him in my own lodgings,” said the detective and that sounded fairly true. “If I stayed in a hotel I should be even more accessible, so I am going to make use of you, Tab. How do you feel about it?”
“You can bring your belongings and stay here until the case is over,” invited Tab. “I don’t think that Rex’s old bed is made up.”
“I prefer the sofa, anyway. Luxury enfeebles and vitiates a man as it enfeebles and vitiates a nation——”
“If you are going to be oracular, I am retiring to bed,” said Tab.